


The Sins of Bobby Singer

by Dgray3994



Category: Supernatural, Supernatural Novels - Various, Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural Hunters, Bobby Singer is Dean and Sam Winchester's Father, F/M, Father Figures, Father-Son Relationship, Prompt Fic, Protective Bobby Singer, Supernatural Elements, What-If, Writing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-20
Updated: 2017-02-09
Packaged: 2018-09-10 18:12:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 24,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8927071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dgray3994/pseuds/Dgray3994
Summary: Jim Beaver left a curious question on 12/20 on Twitter, what would a Bobby/Mary relationship look like, Does Dean resemble Bobby?  So I was challenged to write this little short.





	1. Chapter 1

The Sins of Bobby Singer

SPNFanFic 2016

Dawn Gray

I don’t own the rights to Bobby, Mary, the boys or anything else to Supernatural.

 

He was there, those big green eyes staring at me, begging me not to go. I wish I could have told him, I wish I had that chance now to really tell Dean Winchester the best story of my life, but there wasn’t time.  Death was coming soon.  Death was at the door and I didn’t have enough time to confess all the sins of Bobby Singer.

There was a reason I went straight to hell, and it wasn’t because of the little deal I had made with Crowley to save the world. It was because of something I had done long before then, and Crowley knew it. Yeah, the “deal” was to save the boys that had become like my sons, and I was damned proud of them but if they knew the secret that I carried to the grave with me, well I’m not sure what kind of reaction I would get.

My father was abusive when I was younger, and I found myself constantly protecting my mother from the bastard.  Not that I wouldn’t do it again, but it was a time I’d like to forget.  By the time I got away I was able to buy the Salvage Yard, get my business going.  That abusive bastard is buried back there, I think I might have even put a stack of cars on him, just to make sure he stayed dead.

I met Mary Campbell way back in the day, at that point she was hunting with her father, Samuel and still dating some kid named John, but we were young I know that, but I didn’t know what her family did, just that they were passing through.  That was way back in 1969.

We got married about the same time, Mary and me, not to each other of course, but it was a few months off. I married Karen, God rest her soul and she had married that kid, John, becoming a Winchester, a name that might haunt me longer than I can haunt those boys of hers.

Life was good then, in the early part of the 70’s, until her father died in 73’, she told me he had a heart attack, that much I believed, but the underlying cause was much worse. 

I never believed in the bad things, the ghosts, the demons that hid in the shadows.  Not until Karen was possessed.  I wish I knew then what I do now.  I knew nothing of an exorcism, nothing about a Devil’s trap or a way out, not until much later, not until it was too late.  Karen was dead, by my hand no less, by 1977.  One more of my sins.

After Karen died, I decided that I was going to find out everything I knew about the Supernatural.  I read everything I could get my hands on, found out every kind of lore I could and became the thing the sons-a-bitches hated the most, a hunter.  I was damned good at it too, even found some others along the way to do it.  That was how I reconnected with the Campbells, and Mary Winchester.

I was headed toward Norman, Oklahoma in May of 1978.  Wasn’t much of a hunt, some vengeful ghost trying hard not to move on and stirring up the place with a local family.  I figured it was a one man deal so I went in alone.  Never needed back up before so I didn’t think anything of it now.  Wasn’t need to, until I spotted that car pulling into the same motel I was crashing in. A beautiful black 1967 Impala, put my 71 Chevelle to shame but the person driving it was even more beautiful than the car.

She stepped out, just as I moved from my room and locked eyes on me.  She hadn’t changed that much since the last time I saw her, just gotten a little bit older.  Almost a decade and I could still hear her voice in my head from the first time we spoke.

Mary looked over at me, gave me a curious look and that knowing smile, and Holy Hell, she was walking over. I hadn’t seen anything more beautiful since Karen passed and when she stopped right in front of me, my heart nearly gave out.

“Mary Campbell?” I questioned, stupidly, like I had actually drank that entire bottle of hunter’s courage that was tucked in my bag.

“Bobby Singer!”  She smiled and wrapped her petite arms around me.  I hugged her back of course, still stunned that she was standing there but when she backed away, her face went sad.  “I’m sorry to hear about your wife, I wish we could have come sooner.”

“It’s in the past.” But it wasn’t because I hadn’t let it go.  “Heard you got married.”

“Yeah, I promised him I would stop hunting, but here I am.”

“It’s in your blood.” I reassured her and glanced over at her bag.  “You on a hunt?”

“Yeah, vengeful spirit, you?”

“Actually I think we might be on the same one.”  I smiled and watched as her cheeks lit up.  “Not usually a partner person, but do you want to pair up, I’m sure we could get this done a lot faster.”

“I’d love to,” she was more than happy to share the weight, which was okay with me because I was happy for the company.

We spent the afternoon comparing notes and looking into the history and connections of the house to the spirit that terrorized the family and the only thing we came up with was a murder that happened thirty years before.

Sitting outside the property in the Impala, my eyes trained on the house, I could feel her shifting in the seat next to me, and I turned in her direction.

“So the basement is the most likely place for the remains to be.”  She said softly, her face buried in the blue-prints.  She looked up at me, catching my eye as she handed the paper over, pointing out the “root cellar” of the old place.  “From the information my father got, no one ever goes back there, and it’s been sealed off for years.”

“Seems too easy.”  I shook my head, of course it always seemed too easy, but it never was easy.

We had to wait until the family left to break in through the back door.  Wasn’t much we knew about the family, but we did know that salt traps a ghost and iron gives it one bad headache but you had to salt and burn the remains in order to make that nasty thing disappear.

The root cellar was tucked in a dark corner, covered by a shabby brick wall that looked as if it was being held up by its last bit of mortar.  Mary kept watch as I moved in with a sledge hammer that I found close to the scene.  It only took one swing, one knock against the rocks to let that thing know we were there.

Before I could swipe a second time, I heard Mary’s breath catch and I turned to look back.  She flew up from the floor as if she were tossed by an unseen force and I watched in horror as she came to rest against a pile of boxes.

I took the crowbar that sat at my feet, one that I had carried in with me and swung at the apparition that appeared before me.  An old nasty man with peeling skin and some God-awful suit that looked like it was about to fall off him anyway. It disappeared just as quickly as it appeared but I knew the fight wasn’t over yet. 

More concerned about Mary, I moved away from the wall and helped her to her feet, she was bleeding from wounds on her arms and face but otherwise she seemed okay.  Once steady I went back to my job, getting that wall down.

I swung twice, nearly got completely through the rubble before I felt the cold draft on the back of my neck, the icy hands on my shoulders.  I was nearly there when I was thrown clear across the room into the hard wall of the cellar.  My head spun, having collided with the brick, but it was the yells of Mary that brought me out of it.  I could hear her fighting, choking, kicking and screaming in pain as I shook the fog from my head.

When I got to my feet I could see her leaning against the support beam, the side of her head covered in blood and it looked as if she were out cold, but a little movement and a slight groan had me up on my feet in a heartbeat.

She was alive and that thing needed to be dead and gone.  It had hung around long enough.  I moved quickly across the room, circled Mary with a line of salt and went to work on the  rest of the wall.

Finally through, the smell of death rose in the air, not as bad as opening a coffee that was six-feet under for years but definitely something that left a bad taste in your mouth. I grabbed the bag, emptied a bucket load of salt on the putrid remains of this old bastard and sprayed it down with a heavy dose of lighter fluid.  I could feel it coming closer, feel it’s fingers around my neck as it began to squeeze the light out of my eyes.

I tried to grab at it, hoping that there was something solid enough to do so but there was nothing but air.  I went for my lighter, but my pockets were empty.  I could feel the room fading, the ugly darkness of death creeping up but then I felt it release and the smell of burning rotting flesh filled my nose.

I fell to the floor, gasping for air and backed away from the scorching body before turning to look at Mary, whose droopy eyes smiled at me.  She had figured out how to light a book of matches and toss it in with no problem.  Had to be the Campbell training coming through.  The house was in no danger of catching fire, since the root cellar was completely encased in brick, so I gathered the bag, and lifted Mary up into my arms before escaping through the hatch.

The motel bed was lumpy, but I was pretty sure that Mary didn’t care.  She needed medical attention but there was no way she was going to a hospital, in fact she threatened to shoot me if I even drove in that direction. SO, personal doctor it was.

She was laying on the bed, her shirt on the floor, her bra holding in only so much as I tried to stitch up the gash on her shoulder blade the best I could without bringing too much attention to how much I was enjoying myself.  She sat quietly for a few moment, not even flinching at the feeling of the needles, or my rough hands going over her skin, but when I sighed and sat back, she turned her eyes to me.

I hung my head in shame, thinking about a married woman that way but she just smiled and reached out, caressing my stubble-covered cheek gently.  I could feel my heart beating out of  my chest as she touched me.  What was this, some kind of after hunt aphrodisiac?  All I wanted was her, and all she wanted, apparently was me.

It didn’t take long for things to get pretty hot and heavy, I guess coming so close to death would do that to a person.  She kissed me hard and rough and I kissed back, seemed to go on forever before we found ourselves naked, sweaty and completely spent.  I know I stared up at the ceiling for what felt like forever, my arms wrapped around her, with her head on my chest. But it was wonderful, fast, furious, full of desperation to know that we were alive but wonderful at the same time.

The next morning, when I finally woke up, I found my bed empty, along with my motel room.  Feeling like the ditchable prom date, I sat there and pitied myself for a while before I noticed the note stuck under the door.

Getting dressed to head back home, I finally unfolded it and shook my head.  It was pretty simple.

Bobby,

You can’t imagine what last night meant to me.  We’ll see each other again.

Mary W.

And that was it.  Truthfully, I never did see her again, but could you imagine my disbelief when I heard that she had a little boy in January of 1979.  A boy nine months later.  I never said anything of it, never thought that I had a right, never even questioned the timing, but she died in before I could really get the courage up to finally see just what had gone on. 

She died in a house fire in 1983, six months after the birth of Sam, at the hands of a demon.  I was floor, but there was nothing that I could do, not until 1991 when a man named John Winchester blew through town with two young sons.  He stopped at the Salvage Yard, looking for parts to the Impala and seeking help in the case, but it was my interest in the oldest boy that had me hooked from the beginning. 

I swear I hid every picture of me as a kid from that idjit, just to make sure that he didn’t see what I was seeing.  John had lost his wife, there was no way I was going to even bring up the fact that I could look right into Dean’s green eyes and see myself as a boy.  I swear that man was just like my father at times.  We weren’t on good terms, not from the go but there wasn’t anything I wouldn’t do for those two boys. 

Through the years, they became the men I hoped they would be.  Dean became the man I wanted him to be.  Heroes, the both of them.  When John died, I adopted them both, and I was damned proud of it.  They had saved the world, and almost ended it several times but there was nothing that could keep the two of them apart. 

I wanted to tell him, every time they walked out the door to fight the good fight, or whatever the hell we were fighting, but I didn’t say a thing.  I watched them die for each other, and come back for each other.  I watched as they grew together, and grew apart, and then found their way home.

I did the only thing I could do for my boy, I could keep the secret.  I could be the father he needed, not the one he wanted, not the one that helped bring him into the world. No, I could just be the biological one in my head, but I could be the man they needed me to be, their father. HIS father, until my dying breath.

And here we were, or I was, lying in the hospital bed, waiting on Death to take me, staring up into those big green eyes which were begging me not to go, wishing I could tell him, tell MY SON that I was his father, and I would always be.

The world around me started to grow dark, this wasn’t the end.  This wasn’t the last time I was going to see my boys.  Nothing in this life stayed dead, not even me, and between a Heaven and Hell, I knew I would see them again.

Yeah, I didn’t go to hell because I sold my soul, I went to Hell because I loved Mary and I helped bring Dean Winchester into this world.

God help it!

 


	2. The Secrets of Sam Winchester

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What would would you do with a secret so big that it could shatter a life? If you knew everything there was to know but no way to tell. What if that secret was eating you up inside? Second Chapter to "The Sins of Bobby Singer"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that some are concerned about plot holes as far as the Michael/Lucifer thing, but we got it covered. Thanks for reading, please feel free to leave comments or likes

The Secrets of Sam Winchester

SPN Fanfic 2016

I don't own the rights to Sam, Dean, Mary or Bobby or anything on Supernatural.

His breathing was labored, he had just written numbers on my hand and he was struggling to catch his breath but the way he looked at Dean, the way he smiled that one last knowing grin and said his lips moved as if to force out more of what he wanted say, some sort of confession, but all that came out was "Idjits"!

I stared at my brother for a long time as Dean tried to call to him, as he became an internal emotional wreck. I couldn't help what I did, to just stare, but I was so worried about Dean that I don't remember much after that. I heard Dean's voice crackle as he tried to tell Bobby to stay, but the monitor just flatlined. What the hell was I going to do now…how do keep something so big a secret?

I had always had my suspicions but just looking at them, I knew, but I could never say anything, because, well "Dude, I think Bobby is your father", was never a sentence that would have worked well.

That was almost four years ago, could it have really been that long?

Dad was everything to Dean, so was Bobby, but I had known for so long, known without really knowing.

Things started to add up for me slowly from the beginning. The way that Bobby first looked at Dean when we met was forever etched into my mind. He was shocked, amazed and in total awe of my brother, his mannerisms and just the overall way he held himself. Certainly like a Winchester but as we grew, even I started to notice the strange way that Dean mimicked Bobby's habits, his expressions.

I remember the first summer we were there, 1991 when Bobby took us to the park and Dean insisted that he was supposed to be practicing his shooting, but damn if Bobby didn't just set him straight and tell him: "you're going to learn to throw a ball just like a regular snot-nosed jerk." I loved it, and funny enough that's where it started. That was the reason I responded to my brother's endearing nickname of "Bitch". Bobby had started that.

I remembered that Christmas, when I turned 8, the same year that we stayed at Bobby's. Dean and I were in a hotel room, Christmas time again, and I was wrapping something for Dad, begging and pleading for Dean to tell me that this ONE TIME, that this one holiday, Dad would be there. But, it didn't happen.

"Uncle" Bobby had given me something to give to Dad, no, that wasn't true. He had given me something that I was supposed to give to Dad, but the words "to give to Dean" were left out of my confession. Bobby told me it would protect him, it would be something of great importance down the line and in one way or another, it had always belonged to Dean.

I never really understood why something so small, some ugly, useless amulet was so important but we all know how that turned out. I just didn't know why Dean having it was the most emphasized request that Bobby would ever give me.

I'm not saying that Bobby didn't love me, in fact, just the opposite, he loved us both, but you could see the connection between them. He was always there for Dean, at the drop of the dime, from Heaven or Hell, he would always come through. Through the phone calls and the pain, through the tantrums and the exorcisms, Bobby had always been there, so how could I not tell Dean this one little secret.

Well, that one was easy. MOM. What would Dean think of her, not that I cared because I understood, but Mom was his saving grace, the pictures he turned to when he needed to ground himself. If she had lived, would she have told him the secret, would she have let him know? I know I couldn't.

The hunter's life was hard, and she still carried on after her and Dad married, something she swore she wouldn't do but we found out that when it's in your blood, you can't stop something like that. I didn't blame her; I don't blame her at all for needing to feel something, some sort of real connection after a hunt. We all had done it. Dean does it all the time, off to bars with women, just for the human connection. How could I blame her at all? She gave me the best thing I have ever had. A brother, no matter how he got here.

Dad and Bobby had never really been on good terms, and I think it was because he knew, Dad just knew. He knew that I was the last in the Winchester line; that Dean would carry on the name but not the blood. It was always "take care of Sammy", "make sure that Sammy is okay", "watch your brother" and at one point, he had the balls to ask Dean to kill me if I couldn't control myself.

I would die for my brother, and I have, I would travel to hell and back to get him, and I have. I pulled Bobby from Hell and delivered him to Heaven so Dean didn't have to go through the trials because that mark, the "Mark of Cain" was just too much for my brother. Dean fought it, fought it with all that he had and I know, deep in my heart that there was no way he could have done it without that small encouragement from Bobby.

"Family don't end in blood boy, it doesn't start there either." That did it; that was the one thing that sealed the deal for me. Family wasn't always about blood, half a Winchester, full Winchester, it didn't matter, Dean was my blood. He IS my brother and I will keep this secret with me to the grave.

It's what we do best, I guess, keep secrets, keep the pain from one another but this…this is big, this is life changing. Dean idolized Dad, dressed like him, listened to the same music, acted like him, even drove the same car but maybe that was overcompensating for something Dean felt way down inside because after Dad's death, that was when the real Dean came out. He changed, he was given a new purpose, he was truly given Bobby.

I laughed when Dean swore under the car, I smiled as he made his jokes and ate his pie and made damn sure that I was safe, but inside, I could feel the weight of this bearing down on me. My brother's keeper, death wouldn't separate us, but what if this secret did?

We found the bunker, became "legacies" and Dean was so proud of that title. The man is a genius, just like Bobby he absorbed everything and kept it. He came up with things that no one would have ever thought of, he knew ways around every monster that most hunters would have fallen prey to but not Dean, not MY brother. He had something ingrained in him that still amazes me today. Loyalty, respect, knowledge and the ability to act on a second's notice.

There were so many times that Bobby could have told him, but there wasn't time. There was only one time that he even broke down and told me, and I hold that letter with me, locked in a safe in my room, another secret that I didn't tell Dean.

"Sam. So, this is weird huh? Look I just wanted to say that Cas told me what you're doing for Dean and I'm not asking you to stop but maybe going behind his back ain't the best idea. Your brother, he can be stubborn but I think he'd understand and I know it's the life: doing a little bad so you can do a lot of good but sometimes the bad is real bad and the good, it can come at one hell of a price. I ain't there on the ground and whatever you do, I know you'll make the right choice. You're a good man, Sam Winchester, one of the best and I'm damn proud of you son. I was content up here but getting a call from you, it's the happiest I've been in forever, no matter what it costs. So stay safe, keep fighting and kick it in the ass. -Bobby."

There was a small folded spot at the end of the letter, something written that if you weren't careful you would have miss. In the corner of the page, in minuscule letters that I had to really stare at was these words.

"Tell Dean I love him, tell him that I wish I could have told him everything."

Everything? Just one thing, Bobby, all you had to do is tell him, just one thing.

So I carry this secret around inside my heart. Do I tell him, do I let it out? Would it kill him to know the truth? Would it tear us apart as a family? Dean is all I have left, he is my rock and I'm his. Family doesn't end in blood, and for us that rings true, but of all the people that we've met in this life, the other part of what he said, he was absolutely right.

It doesn't start there either.


	3. The Confessions of Castiel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel knows angels and the way Heaven works, but it doesn't mean he agrees with it. So when he can't do anything to stop the angels from manipulating everything to their advantage, from making sure Dean becomes Michael's vessel, he tries everything he can to make it right when the boy is born. *Warning, this one can be pretty dark, it's set after Season 7, Cas still doesn't get human emotions*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yet another chapter in The Sins of Bobby Singer story. I'm kind of unsure of this one, only because it's really hard to go back to the Cas in Season 7 and really get the feeling for him, for how he would be BEFORE pulling Dean from Hell. Go ahead and review, good or bad...I'm a big girl, I can handle it.

The Confessions of Castiel

“The Sins of Bobby Singer” Chapter 3

I don’t own any of the characters, they belong to the CW, WB and Supernatural

 

Not all angels are good. Not all angels are righteous and holy, though some would say that about almost everyone, whether human or demon as well, but the things I have witnessed have never weighed more on my mind than now. Especially now!

They stood there smiling, watching the man try to breath out his last breath.  They were smiling because that was the moment that their secret was sealed.  They honestly believed that everything that had come to fruition since the moment they started meddling in the affairs of the Winchesters was sealed and that the very dark secret they had tried so hard to hide, died with that one last breath.

However, the never counted on one thing, two actually, but one that would possibly be the downfall. Sam Winchester!  Angels believe that they are more intelligent, more apt to have the upper hand, but that was not the case here. Sam knew, he truly believed and I watched from the shadows as the angels in the room disappeared, and Sam continued to watch his brother try his hardest not to break down.

They stood out by the nurses’ station, watching, unsure of what to do next as the doctors and staff worked as hard as they could to bring him back, but I knew there was nothing that could be done.  In the weeks that followed Bobby’s death, Sam struggled with the secret that he knew deep down was true, but had no biologic proof or concrete confession from the man himself.

This is MY confession, not to Sam, not to Dean but as a way of pence, and in a small way revenge on the angels that manipulated a small child before he even became part of this world.

In Heaven’s eyes , there was no way that destiny could be altered, no reason that man should not do what they were asked of, but they never encountered free will as great as they did when they came up against the Winchesters.  Sam and Dean had already seen plenty of monsters, fought dozens of creatures but none were as bad or as deceitful as the angels that were supposed to watch over them.

The garrison knew of the coming battle, the war between Heaven and Hell and they had done everything in their power to give both Michael and Lucifer vessels strong enough to hold their grace.  They gave them Sam and Dean, but with all of the planning and preparation, with all the pulling of the strings, they never counted on one Robert Singer.

When Mary became pregnant, Heaven was in an uproar!  Things seemed to be coming unraveled, the most well laid plans often do but that was when I saw the extent of the depravity that they would go to in order to make what they believed to be destiny come to pass.  Without a single care in either direction, any thought to Bobby and the child, the angels did something that could never be undone.

Angels are celestial beings, they can move Heaven and Earth, they have unimaginable powers to bend the wills of others to do what needs to be done. They lead armies, they rain down plagues, and biblical signs but they couldn’t leave one small being untouched.

It was the Archangels who did it.  As each Prophet gets one as a protector, so would the unborn son of Mary Winchester.  Michael was there as soon as the child has passed into the fetal stage, no longer an embryo, the fetus now was strong enough to withstand anything that Michael chose to do, and he needed this little thing to be strong enough to hold him, strong enough to say YES to him.

When the manipulation began, and if I remember right, it was shortly after the pregnancy moved into its ninth week, Michael returned to Heaven in an infuriated state.  He was beyond vexed in the worst possible way.  Everyone of unimportance was smited, their grace gone, and Michael himself was acting as if he were no more than a spoiled child.

Only Gabriel was able to get the truth from him, only Gabriel could appeal to his calmer side and as I stood quietly in the corner watching my older, more powerful brothers deep in conversation , I overheard something I never thought would cross the lips of someone so important to me.  Michael as going to change the child.

I didn’t understand at the time how one could go about changing a child in utero.  Was that possible?  Was there a way to manipulate the molecular structure of this one innocent being?  Gabriel pleaded to him, begged of him to stop and think rationally.  There would be other bodies, other children, other vessels but Michael had spent so much time on the arrangement of John and Mary, of the certainty that their first born would hold him, he wasn’t seeing anything but the deception.

When Gabriel exited the room, he stopped to pull me aside.  He set me on a task that would change the way I looked at humanity, long before I pulled Dean from Hell.  I was to watch Bobby Singer, never show myself, never reveal that I existed but he was to be protected from Michael’s wrath even though the man had no idea what he had done.

So I was sent to Earth, to watch the man who I would later call friend and family, unbeknownst to me at the time, and I did my task with due diligence, never for a second thinking about the repercussions of what Michael was about to do.

I wasn’t there when it happened, I’m not really sure how it came to pass, but I could feel it like a wave through the Heavens, like the Earth had begun to tremble at the very violation of its natural order.  I was told sometime later that Michael had altered the baby’s DNA. Unsure of how that was even possible, I questioned Gabriel, and my older brother told me this.

Michael moved around the strands, waiting for the right moment to do so and he added John to the child.  ADDED his DNA to the boy that was growing in Mary’s womb.  Angels could do spectacular things but to do so to a child was unheard of.  He made Dean strong enough to hold him, biologically John’s only on the level necessary to be what Michael needed, a Winchester, but the boy still remained what he was, who he was.  The son of someone else.

When Dean was born the Heaven’s rejoiced and Hell shuttered with the power that sang through the child, but Gabriel cried.  Tears of self-hatred and pain cascaded down my brother’s face.  When I asked him what could have possibly been so wrong about the birth of a miracle, he told me that he hoped one day I would meet this vessel and that I would see all the good in him.  He told me that one day I would be the one that pulled him from the very depths of the darkness that Michael had condemned him to.

I never understood what that meant, why the boy was destined for hell, but as they years moved on, as the child grew, I watched from the shadows, only getting peeks from the battle lines where I was sent.

I saw the fear in Gabriel’s eyes as he told me that destiny had come to call once again, that Sam, who would become the boy with the demon blood, had been born. That six months later, his mother, Mary, keeper of Dean’s secret, had died in a house fire.

I saw the tears on the Angel’s cheeks as he told me of the way they were raised, fighting for their lives, hunting creatures that were still part of creation.  I listened to him speak of the boy with the grass green eyes and how the time was approaching, the time for the battle neared.

I had kept Bobby safe for all these years, shielding him from whatever may have come but still, they found one another.  Sam and Dean had become family to Bobby, and I watched with wonder from afar as Bobby’s eyes registered the sight before him.  There was no doubting the resemblance as Dean had grown up to be just like him, fair-haired and overly intelligent, but he was also John Winchester’s son, a hunter at heart.

I watched Dean as well, the way he hid his feelings, especially ones he didn’t quite understand. One specifically, was the question he whispered at night to himself, when Sam was asleep and John was out on hunts.  He always questioned why he was different, why he was just a bit of a freak, why he never felt like he belonged in any one particular place. 

He was in charge, which made him defensive,  brought his walls up, sent his emotions back to the point where there was nothing he wouldn’t do for family but so much he wouldn’t allow himself to feel.  He watched the people he loved die, he watched his brother become a monster.  He prayed that he didn’t have to do what his father asked of him before John himself went to hell.  He HOPED he wouldn’t have to kill his own brother.

Bobby made sure that Dean was protected, even if it meant keeping the secret that nearly killed him each time he saw him.  The amulet that Sam had given him, the anti-possession charms that became the tattoos both men wore to fight off demons, those were the little things that Bobby could do to help his son, both of them.  Sam and Dean had become what Bobby had never felt he deserved, his children, his sons.

Dean fought with everything he had to right the wrongs in the world, but most of all he fought for his brother and himself.  There was nothing he wouldn’t do for Sam, there wasn’t anything he would put in front of him either and that meant his own life.  Something changed in Dean the moment he found himself on the rack in the pit, something that only angels knew about.  Dean had become something more than a man, he had become more determined than ever to keep Sam safe, even if that meant stepping down and doing the one thing he feared most, becoming the monster.

Dean had inadvertently changed the chemical make-up of his own body, he became the man he was meant to be before Michael’s manipulation.  No one knew, not  even the angels were aware that there was just that slight little difference in him because for as much as they needed destiny to prevail and for Dean to become Michael’s vessel, none had watched him closer than I did.

I felt it as my hand gripped him tight, the shift in his structure, the way that he shook off that other half, the little strands that were holding the Winchester part of him together.  It splintered and crumbled as he rose and as he pushed his way through the dirt, making his way to the surface, Dean wasn’t Dean Winchester anymore, not the one that had gone in, not the one that had sacrificed his soul for Sam, he was a new man, a new Dean.

The memories of the last forty years haunted him, ripped him apart, caused great pain as I made my place in his life evident. I was trying to make up for the years that I had spent keeping a secret that should have been shared, even to this day I still carry it with me, but with less regret. 

You see Dean was able to say no, not because he was a fighter, not because he was Dean Winchester but because he no longer had the change within him.  He no longer had the weakness to give in or the inability to say no. Dean Winchester rose a new man, with every ounce of his power and right to say no to Michael. Unfortunately, as I said before not all angels are good.

Using Sam and Dean’s half-brother Adam, a son from John, as a pon in the game to get Dean to agree to be Michael’s vessel proved useless as Dean once again was strong enough to say no.  Sam sacrificed himself to seal the cage with Lucifer and Michael inside.  We’re not sure what happened to Adam, no angel is, and no demon is talking.

I’ve been with him for a long time now, long enough to see the changes, long enough to really understand the truth in his ways.  He may not be blood but he is definitely a Winchester, with a little extra “grumpy alcoholic” inside.  John will always be the father that Dean wanted…wanted to save, wanted to make proud, wanted to be like.  But Bobby will always be the one he needed.

As I watched as they burned Bobby’s flask, a request the man himself made, since a vengeful spirit was not something that Bobby Singer ever wanted to be. As the fire burned, and I stood in the shadows, invisible to the brothers before me, his spirit arrived at my side. I sighed, my arms at my side and turned towards the man who I called friend.

“You should really move on.”  I advised and watched as he gave me that look as if to tell me to shut my mouth or call me an “idjit”, something he referred to quite often.

“I know what I should do, Cas, but there’s something I have to say before I do,” his voice was quiet, as if he was unsure of whether the Winchesters could hear or not, “I wanted to tell you that you done good, Kid.  It wasn’t until I died in that hospital that I realized what you had done for them, for HIM, but you have to promise me, Cas, promise me that you will never tell him the truth.”

“You can’t expect me to keep this secret from him.”  I was uncertain as to why he was asking me to lie, to keep something so important away from his own son.

“Dean was never mine to have, Cas, he was always John’s son, always meant to be John’s.  If he were mine, I would have broken him.  John gave him what he needed, the courage and strength to survive anything, and he gave him Sam.”  I turned and looked at the men before the fire and frowned.  Bobby was right, Dean had survived enough hardship.  “He won’t survive this, Cas, not this.”

“Fine,” I stated and turned back towards the man, the spirit of the man.  “Dean won’t find out the truth, not from me, but you have to understand that Sam knows.”

“Sam won’t tell, he knows why,” Bobby let out a gruff noise and looked at them one last time.  “Watch over our boys, Cas, blood or not, you’re family and their yours now.  Fight for them with everything you got.  Fight for them and never let them go.”

I watched as he faded away, as the flask melted into the flames and Bobby disappeared from my eyes. 

He was right, Dean wouldn’t survive this secret.  He was my family, my brother and I would do anything to protect him.

Even if it meant never telling him the truth.

 


	4. The Admissions of Ellen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ellen Harvelle has been around the hunter block for a while. She was the one person you could go to when you needed to know something about something else, or someone else, but when Bobby makes an admission to her, she never thought it was anything but a drunken rant. Not until Sam and Dean Winchester stepped into the Roadhouse and memories came flooding back

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jim Beaver left a curious question on 12/20 on Twitter, what would a Bobby/Mary relationship look like, Does Dean resemble Bobby? So I was challenged to write this little short (now it's 4 chapters)

The Admissions of Ellen

“The Sins of Bobby Singer” Chapter 4

I don’t own any of the characters, they belong to the CW, WB and Supernatural. Some dialogue taken from “Everybody Loves a Clown”.

 

I had known Bobby Singer a long time before that phone call in ‘93 --  the one that nearly made me drop the whiskey in my hand, the good whiskey, not the crap stuff.  He had just started to come to the Roadhouse though, managed to stay away for a very long time.  Apparently, he wasn’t all that fond of hunters, especially the ones that frequented this place.  Some were drunks, some were total asses, but most to me were just men and women looking for a spot to vent, to wait for their next hunt, or hell -- to wash away their worries in a few shots of Jack. 

However, the words that he mumbled were probably the craziest thing I had ever heard. Bobby was a troublesome old drunk, or at least that was what others had assumed, but to me Bobby was family so when that call came in, I just about had a heart attack.

He had told me something about the situation back in ‘89-ish, more like ‘91, I think, the years kind of fade together, but I didn’t think anything of it then because he was punch-drunk on that “hunter’s courage” that he kept stocked in his cabinets.  John Winchester had dropped his boys off, leaving him in the care of the man, which Bobby seemed to enjoy, but the thought of John leaving those boys anywhere but Bobby’s always gave me a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach.

So, anyway, the words that came out of his mouth way back then were something along the lines of “you should John’s oldest, Dean, he looks just like me when I was that age,” and he laughed, which is how I knew he was swigging back that brew.  I just shook my head at it, paid no mind, because I knew Bobby had a soft spot for those two, something about Mary Winchester back in the day always seemed to make him nostalgic, plus you throw John in and the way he was raising them and there was no way Bobby wasn’t going to take care of them.

But the realization that what Singer was actually telling me didn’t come to me until much later in life, like the moment that Sam and Dean Winchester walked through the doors of the Roadhouse.  The place was quiet, Jo and I hung back since we weren’t very busy.  I was in the backroom, grabbing some of the finer stuff we tended to hide back there from the “regular” riffraff, and that was when this giant of a young man walked into the back. He was casual, but definitely on his toes -- there was just something about his face that reminded me of an old friend.

I watched him eye the shelves, the back kitchen and as he turned, hearing another man call his name, I clocked back the hammer on the gun and pointed to the back of his head.

“Nice and slow there,” I whispered and watched as his hands went up slowly, giving a little bit of a sigh as if he were pretty sure he had screwed up somewhere.  With a gentle tap of the end of the barrel to the back of his head, pushed him towards the door. “Move.”

“Sam, a little help here!”  A deep voice came from the bar room and I knew that Jo had been up to something.  The one before me opened the door and I looked over at the shotgun Jo had pointed at the brown-haired man in a familiar leather jacket.

“Sorry, Dean, I can't right now. I'm a... little tied up.” He answered and I watched the green eyes of the second man come up to meet mine, and that was when it hit me.  There was a reason the one I held at gunpoint looked so familiar, there was a reason that jacket was triggering my memory.

“Sam? Dean?”  I questioned and watched the look on Dean’s face as he glanced back and forth between us all, “Winchester?”

Dean, the one with the green eyes, looked up at me, wiped the blood from his nose and nodded. “Yeah.”

There was only one thing that I could say to the realization that John’s boys, hell, Bobby’s boys, were standing right in front of me. “Son of a bitch.”

They had come down to respond to a message that I had left four months prior on John’s phone about a job that I needed help with, but the man never called me back and now I was standing here with his son’s and the voice of Bobby in my head telling me that Dean looked just like him.

As they sat at the bar, there were only a few things going through my mind besides that drunken man’s voice. These two were in some serious trouble.  When they told me that John had passed and wondered how I even knew what they were hunting for, I told them the only things I could.  This was a hunter’s bar, people came through all the time, but John was like family once so I was only doing what I could to help out.

It took a bit for them to acknowledge that even Ash was there to help, but as I stepped back and looked, that old coot’s voice came spinning back in my head.  “He looks like me at that age.” Staring at Dean Winchester, I couldn’t believe what I was seeing.  Yes, he had most of the same features as his brother, but there was just something different that I couldn’t quite place, something just this side of questionable. 

I quietly found my way into the backroom, the office space where I kept everything and dug through the box in the back of the closet.  While I had only known Bobby since the early 90’s, Billy had known him for a lot longer and that was where I found his box. 

That was the reason that John and I hadn’t spoken in so long.  My Bill had died on a hunt with John, but I had forgiven him a long time ago and to see his boys sitting out at the bar, one with Ash, the other watching Jo, it made me happy that his legacy lived on.

The box was covered in dust, buried deep in the back corner and it took me taking it out to the table in the room to even think about really opening it.  With a deep breath, I shook my head, reached out for the cover and flipped it open.  I rummaged through old papers, a small journal and there, down at the bottom, were old photographs.

It took me a moment to find the one I was looking for, since there had to have been at least three dozen random pictures there but when I pulled it out, my breath caught.  The picture was taken in front of an old pick-up, a ‘71 Chevelle parked crookedly beside it and Billy’s smile just made my heart flutter.  He was so handsome, but it was the man that stood beside him, holding a shotgun up to his shoulder that made me want to run out and compare faces. 

The same features, the same eyes, and after some of the conversation we had that evening, I could almost see the same expression on both their faces.  Bobby Singer, you sly devil you!  The young man sitting out at the bar was almost the spitting image of Bobby in this picture, there were no two ways about it. 

“Hot damn, he’s got a son.”  I mumbled to myself but could hear Jo approaching.  I tossed the picture back in the box, closed the lid and shoved it in the back of the closet.  There was no need to bring up tearful memories with Jo, which would have happened if she had seen the box to begin with, not to say nothing about the contents. 

I cleared my throat, grabbed a ledger from the pile and turned as she walked in. With a half-crooked smile, she leaned against the wall. 

“You really think that John’s boys are going to be able to take care of that demon?” Jo questioned and I looked at her a little funny.  There was no real reason for her to ask that, there simply wasn’t a need, but I could see her tiptoeing around something that she wasn’t spitting out.

“What is it?”  I questioned, because a mother knows.

“Why haven’t they asked Uncle Bobby?”  I stopped dead at that point.  Was she psychic or something?  The fact that I had just been looking at his old picture was just too much of a coincidence.

“Maybe Bobby can’t do much for them, and Sam did say they got my message from John’s phone, it’s possible that Bobby doesn’t even know they’re here.” I answered and held the ledger close, moving past her.  “Let’s just not mention Bobby until they do.”

“Right.” Jo could tell I was hiding something, just like I could always tell when she was but I wasn’t going to let my cat out of the bag -- not until I could talk to the man himself.

The opportunity didn’t come, at least not for a while, not until tragic events put me in a position that scared the hell out of me.

The Roadhouse burnt to the ground nearly eight months later.  Jo was off on a hunt, I knew she was safe, but Ash and everyone inside was gone.  It was just dumb luck that I survived, well dumb luck and pretzels. 

I made my way to Bobby’s. It was the only place left to go and as I tried to enter the yard, by passing through the insane amount of cars, wanting nothing more than a good stiff drink and an old friend,  I was cornered by Dean and the man himself, both of which embraced me as I broke down.

Sitting in his kitchen, I remembered him giving me a shot of holy water, shaking my head and protesting, I slugged it down and then simply asked for some whiskey because I certainly needed the pain to be gone. I explained what happened, the way the building went down. Fifteen minutes was all it took for everything I had to disappear, and then it struck me.

Sam and Dean had exited the room, and I finally had two seconds to take Bobby by the hand, my eyes filling with tears again as he crouched down in front of me as I sat still in the chair.  He reached up and touched my cheek, wiping away the streaks that formed there.

“I had it, Bobby, and I should have told you months ago.”  I whispered to him, and I watched as his eyes did that curious thing, the same curious thing that Dean’s did when he wasn’t sure what exactly I was talking about.  “I had a picture of you at Dean’s age, Bobby.  It was in Bill’s stuff.”

“And?” The crotchety bastard questioned; which made me smile.  Same old Bobby.

“You look exactly alike.” 

He sat back on his heels, looked from me to the boys just out of earshot in the room and shook his head.  I thought he would be overjoyed, I thought that he might have smiled at me but what he said certainly confused the hell out of me and with the words he uttered, the subject was never talked about again, not until now when I finally have a chance to write it down.

He spoke plainly.  “It doesn’t matter, because Dean can never know.”

 

Sam’s eyebrows creased as he looked at the book that he held in his hand.  He was trying to locate something in the back storage room in the bunker when he realized that he had some of the books that Bobby had collected, ones that had been stuffed away in one of Bobby’s many containers around the states.  They had all finally made it there.  They were finally home.

“SAMMY?”  Dean’s voice called through the corridors. 

Sam quickly slapped the leather-bound book shut, tucked it back into the bottom of the box and placed three heavier containers on top, sealing it into the darkness.

“Yeah!” he answered as he stood, flipped off the light and looked over at the dark corner of the room, giving the secret one last look before he grabbed the door handle.  “Coming.”

The door latched and locked, and Sam’s footsteps walked away.


	5. The Validation of Missouri Moseley

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We know that John had gone to Missouri for a reading in 1983, we know that the boys met her in the episode of "Home" but what if she knew Bobby and Bobby's secret? What if she was the validation that Bobby needed.

“The Validation of Missouri Moseley.”

The Sins of Bobby Singer Ch 5

I don’t own the characters, they belong to Supernatural, cast, crew and Kripke. (some transcript from “Home” used.)

 

It wasn’t long after the fire that John Winchester stepped into my life.  Not more than days after his wife had died in the nursery, but as he sat in my living room, hoping I could give him some kind of answers, all I could do was look at those boys.  There was somethin’ different about them, somethin’ different about them both. 

Sam was just a baby at the time, just over six months old but he had a power in him that was brewing, a new, strange and dangerous one that made me shiver as I held him.  John, himself, was in a panic because of the way the whole thing had gone down.  Mary stuck to the ceiling like that, and the blood on Sam’s face, he wasn’t sure what to make of it, but even with the little bundle of nerves held tightly in my arms, it was Dean that I couldn’t help but concentrate on.

Somethin’ real special about that one!

With a sigh, I turned back to John, fixed on the conversation about the house, what could have done it and why now, but my eyes kept darting back to that little blond boy with the curls that was standing there staring out the window.

It was as if he were made up of different parts, more than his momma and daddy, the sum of somethin’ bigger, but when he turned those green eyes on me, that was when I knew.  Some higher power had put itself in his life and changed whatever destiny might have had to suit their own.

I left the boys in the care of a trusted friend, someone I knew wouldn’t let anything happen to them and traveled with John to the house.  He was hoping I could pick up on anything that might lead to what had happened that night, but all I could tell him was that it was somethin’ evil, somethin’ I couldn’t quite put my fingers on.

That was the start of it and John didn’t even realize that the path he had chosen was already set for him. His boys were destined to be hunters, a pair that would be the best the world had ever known, but the one thing he never really understood was just what kind of life they were in for.

It took me too long to figure out what was going on with Dean, in fact it almost consumed me when I started to think about him.  Sam, well that boy was strong, so strong in fact that no matter what was thrown at him he could handle it and he would, but Dean was made up of just too many struggles already. 

Sure I checked in on them over the years, and was even surprised when they ended up with an old friend, an acquaintance of sorts.  Bobby Singer.  What an old soul, even when he was young.  He knew too much, saw too many things, and loved just as hard, so when those boys fell in his lap, I knew that they would be well taken care of. But there was another thing that wasn’t quite right.

The first chance I got, I was on my way to the Salvage Yard, trying to settle this feeling that I knew deep down had somethin’ to do with John’s oldest boy.  I pulled up to the worn-down house, felt the energy it let off and it nearly took my breath away.  Bobby had definitely dove into somethin’ he wasn’t ready for but he was studying up.

I knocked twice, knowing he was home, where else would he be?  That was the reason I had arrived at the time I did, I knew the boys weren’t there, I was certain that John himself was out hunting somewhere and it was the perfect time to catch the man I needed to talk to. 

When the door opened, I stood smiling, looking at the scruffy face of a man I had known for a while, his old baseball hat pulled right down tight to his head, those all-knowing eyes looked  me and I could tell that there was somethin’ up.

“You going to invite me inside or just stand there wishing I was someone else?”  I questioned and watched as he rolled his eyes at me and stepped aside. 

Moving through his kitchen, I stepped right into the living room, which was filled with books, scanned through to the study and turned to look him over.  Years of downing the bottle hadn’t been a good thing for him but it certainly hadn’t doused any spark of life in him.  He was still fast on his feet and in complete control of that genius brain of his. 

“Missouri.” He gave me a half-witted smile and gestured to the couch.  “I’d ask you what brought you all the way out here, but I’m going to assume that it’s nothing good.”

It was then that I caught it, the strange and familiar feeling that I had felt not too many years ago, but what struck me as odd was where the feeling had come from. A four-year-old little boy that was so curiously staring out my window, but also eyeing me with a determination that I had never seen in a child while I held his brother.  The smile grew on my face as I looked at Bobby and shook my head.

“Bobby Singer, you sly dog you,” I shook my head.  “What did you do?”

“I don’t have a clue as to what you’re talking about,” he answered honestly and I knew that he really didn’t but I followed his eyes as he turned to look at the picture that graced his wall, one in particular of a little boy with a baseball glove.

“That’s Dean Winchester, isn’t it?”  I questioned, knowing full well that it was, I could read his thoughts, sense his feelings.  “He really does take after his daddy, doesn’t he?”

“Well, you can’t blame John for trying,” Bobby replied and left to grab a beer from the fridge. 

“That wasn’t who I meant.”  Cryptic, I know but he knew just what I was talking about without me even stay it.  The man was far from stupid.  Bobby sat down, popped the top from the beer and took a sip as he looked at me.  “You know there is no way to make any real validation.”

“I won’t want to anyway, the kid loves John, why would I want to change the way he looks at his father?”  Bobby was mad at himself, swore up and down that he broke everything he touched, but he didn’t really know the whole story, not like I knew it, not like I saw.  He wouldn’t break those boys, he would build them up until they became the men they needed to be and all the while he would keep his secret. “Is this what you came here for, Missi?  To confirm somethin’ that you already knew?  Dean is my boy, I got that answer a long time ago.”

“I didn’t come here to get anything, Bobby, I came to check on you.”  I replied, and leaned forward, placing a hand on his knee.  “There are things you need to know about that child, things that only the angels could possibly have done.”

“Angels?”  Bobby snapped.  “Vampires, demons, Hell, werewolves I can deal with but Angels are a myth.”

“Those two boys are in danger, Bobby, and you know I wouldn’t be telling you this unless I believe, no, I knew it to be true.”  I saw the look on his face, he knew somethin’ was different about Dean and he hated to hear that it was true. “He’s just like you, stubborn to the end but he’s also John’s and Mary’s and the Angels had somethin’ to do with that.  You need to stay with him, be his strength, know that everything he does, every choice he makes will be ones that lead him to a destiny greater than his own.”

“Are you telling me that my boy is going to die?”  I shook my head and the smile faded from my face. 

“Listen to me, Bobby, the destiny of Dean Winchester is written in the Heavens, in his blood and with the fates.  You know as well as I do that nothing truly ever stays dead.”  I sighed, stood and moved towards the door.  “He can’t ever know, Bobby, you know as much as I do that it can’t happen, not while we both grace this earth with our presence.”

“I could never tell him anyway,” Bobby looked up at me from under the bill of that cap, his eyes full of pain and caution, “I would never break his heart.”

“They’ll grow up to be fine young men, Bobby,” I looked around the house, at the Devil’s trap on the ceiling and the old books that lined the shelves, before my eyes settled back on him, “with your help, they’ll grow up heroes even if the world never knows their sacrifices.”

“At least they’ll have a chance grow up at all,” he answered back, looking down at the beer bottle as I made my way to the door.  I could hear his voice in my head, the way that he questioned himself, his abilities but there was no way to tell him that all he had to do was put his trust in Dean and everything would work itself out.

It was 2005 before I saw the Winchesters again, this time just the boys but I knew what they were coming for, I knew just where to find him but a promise was a promise and there had to be a way of getting around it.  They were looking for John, but that wasn’t going to be somethin’  I could possibly tell them, at least not at that point.

When the door opened, the customer I was with was just leaving and two strapping men stood in my doorway. A tall one with angelic blue-green eyes and a familiar sense of power, and a shorter one, a little gruff around the edges, but those knowing green globes that stared back at me were ones I had seen often after that last visit with Bobby.

“Well? Sam and Dean, come on already, I ain’t got all day.” I smiled and stepped aside leading them into the living room where both of them  stood while I looked them over. “Oh, you boys grew up handsome.”

“You know us?” Sam asked, and I knew that he would be the one to speak up because Dean was still staring at me with that killer look, even his stance was somethin’ to be reckoned with as he placed himself just a step ahead of Sam.

 “Not for a while,” my answer made him give a questioning glance at Dean, who I also turned to, “and you were one goofy-lookin’ kid, too,” Dean’s expression was one of pure insult while his brother just gave a smirk.  I turned back to the taller one,  “Sam, Oh, honey…I’m sorry about your girlfriend.” Sam quickly took the hand that I was holding and stepped back, not somethin’ that I was shocked about, “and your father –- he’s missin’?”

“How’d you know all that?” Sam shook his head, unsure of how to react to everything

“Well, you were just thinkin’ it just now.” I was nothing but honest with them.

“Well, where is he? Is he okay?” Dean’s voice just made me shake as I swore I was suddenly back in that living room in Sioux Falls again.

“I don’t know.” And it wasn’t that I didn’t, I just chose to omit it.

“Don’t know? Well, you’re supposed to be a psychic, right?”  If I could throttle Bobby Singer at that moment, I certainly would have because the snarkiness in that boy’s voice was all his fault.

I huffed at him, “boy, you see me sawin’ some bony tramp in half? You think I’m a magician? I may be able to read thoughts and sense energies in a room, but I can’t just pull facts out of thin air. Sit, please.”

I watched as they both sat across from me, and I was in awe of the differences between them, differences that no one else could see.  The boy with the “demon blood” was as angelic as they could come and the “righteous” one was just about the Devil’s son, no more to the point Bobby Singer’s son.

It was then, as I looked at them, that I could see everything that unfolded before them. I wish I could have told them of all the trials and tribulations to come, I wish I could have been their guide but it wasn’t meant to be.  They had larger players on their side, ones that were going to make things right in the end.

I took a deep breath and let the feelings of both wash over me, until I suddenly caught a thought that Dean pushed through, and I snapped my eyes open look at him. “Boy, you put your foot on my coffee table, I’m ‘a whack you with a spoon!”

Defensively, in a completely defiant voice, he snapped back, “I didn’t do anything.”

“But you were thinkin’ about it.” I rolled my eyes as Dean raised his brow and Sam just smiled.   “You are definitely your father’s son.”


	6. The Deal with Chuck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You would think the man upstairs would have all the answers, but does he know the truth about Dean Winchester? Chuck, AKA God, should know it all, right? So what would he say about Bobby's secrets?

“The Deal with Chuck”

“The Sins of Bobby Singer” Chapter 6

I don’t own the show, the characters, or the story, they belong to Supernatural and the CW.

 

Talking to Dean Winchester had never been an easy thing for me to do, and I’m God!  It certainly wasn’t pleasant to know the truth and still look him in the eyes as he fought for humanity, fought to make me see that I needed to step up. 

What had my angels done?  My children, to this amazing creation.  Maybe Dean was right, maybe I had been gone too long and maybe, just maybe, I should have interfered when they tried to change his destiny, but here he was, in all his grandeur, just as much a hero as his father, and I really do mean both.

We were about to face my sister, Amara is what they called her in this lifetime, just like they called me Chuck, I liked the name, it gave me a sense of belonging, like I was one of them, but Dean, he just scared me.

So you want the whole story?  You know the lowdown on what really happened. The final say on whether or not Dean is truly Bobby’s kid?  Yeah, me too.  You see I wasn’t there when it happened, I mean no one but Mary and Bobby were “there” but I wasn’t around for that conception.  I should have been, I know but I thought my children had it under control.  I mean after all, the war between Michael and Lucifer was foreseen a long time before Sam and Dean, way before, in Cain and Abel times. 

I should have stopped that one too, I guess, but like right now, the scales had to be balanced.  For good to exist, there had to be evil, for free will to remain intact, there had to be that point where it was taken away. 

Cain killed his brother, and the Winchester line was the driving force behind the fact that Sam and Dean had been chosen in this fight, well Sam anyway, Dean was part of that little fiasco of screwing with destiny, but it made him a Winchester, down to his molecular structure, until it he didn’t need to be one anymore.

Hell had stripped it out of him, and anyone who is anyone would have known that pulling someone from the pit would have stripped anything angelic away.  Dean was still a righteous man for all intent and purposes but he was no longer fully a Winchester, things inside him were chaotic, disorganized and just a bit…off.

Wow, writing is hard! I mean, you would think that after writing all the Supernatural books down that I would have this “expressing my feelings” part to a science but I don’t know, there is just too much to put into one little thing.

There is one thing you really have to know about Dean Winchester, no matter whose kid he turned out to be, he was a great man.

Bobby Singer, another great man, he was always destined for something other than what he thought he was.  He was a hunter from the day he was born, raised the way he was didn’t really hurt him.  It scared him a bit, sure but it made him a great man and someone who was set up to complete what he needed to. His childhood  brought about his destiny and what he did with that was help the fate of the world by raising two boys.

His own father being the way he was made Bobby the hunter he became, not that he would know it until much later in life, but that one trigger, the one blast of the gun, set Bobby up for what he needed to do, and even then, he knew that there was something different about him.  His father was completely wrong though, that man didn’t break a single thing he touched, and I’m not sure he knew it before he died.  He fixed so many problems, helped so many people but he never saw it.

Karen, well, that was unfortunate.  I really wish that she would have made it, she would have been a great mother to those two, but that was fate stepping in again.  See, Michael made his own plans with Dean, shifting and tweaking things that shouldn’t have been touched but Lucifer, he had his own agenda and sending a demon after Bobby’s wife was one of them.

It opened his eyes to the world around him, to the darkness and to what really went bump in the night.  To the real monsters out there.  His brain was brilliant, there was no denying that and once he made up his mind, there was nothing that he couldn’t do, like research and hunt with the best of them.  I think that was one of my greatest feats, creating hunters, giving some the ability to understand that evil, real evil existed, otherwise don’t you think the human race would be doomed.

So back to Bobby, I don’t think it was a coincidence that he and Mary crossed paths that summer, not that I would know since I wasn’t around.  It wasn’t until years after that incident that I thought a good romp around in humanity would be a good idea. 

No, I’m not wearing a “meat suit”, I made this one, and I really kind of like it.  Off topic again. 

I do believe that Dean was destined to be born that year, that the Archangels were determined to look after him but there was something else about that that time that I don’t think anyone truly realized.  Humanity was stepping into a new evolution, a new way of doing things.  Sure the Men of Letters had been around for ages, hunter’s themselves had been around for centuries if not more, but at that point in time there was just a small bump in the road that you humans had to get over.

It started in 1980, the year that Dean turned one, just a small shift in the balance and his fate was pretty well laid out before him.  Mary was still hunting, one thing she had sworn to stop but it was because she continued that the wheels continued in the same motion, just at a faster speed. 

That one demon, that one monster, that ONE hunt that she had done kicked things up, and the world around her and her child changed.  Dean was now a target for Lucifer, who knew just what Michael had done, yet neither John or Mary knew anything about it.  It was just a subtle shift but it began the avalanche of events for the next thirty-three years.

Sam was born in 83, and the Heavens prayed, but they had made their own bed when they tampered with Dean.  Had Dean remained as he was intended, then Sam would have remained as he was supposed to be, but neither side gave, no one wanted to lose. I guess that was my fault really, to pit my children against each other.  They knew Lucifer was my favorite, but Michael was always trying to win my favor and this put these beautiful creations in the middle of a war that they shouldn’t have been part of.

So here we sit, at a park bench in the middle of the end of it all, my sister loose from her bonds, with Dean Winchester staring down at me, questioning just what my motives were about letting my sister just have me.

“What... She's gonna eliminate you, and then she's gonna destroy everything that you've created. She's told me this personally.” Dean sighed, “You started this. You started all of this, but does that give you the right to end it? You know, we're not just some toys you throw away. I think you owe us more than that.”

And that was it, did he not realize that I owed him everything.  The boy who was meant to be someone else had saved the world more times than I could count.  He was right, I owed him something, an explanation about his reality, a confirmation about his true identity, even validation that the thoughts he had about Bobby Singer were absolutely true, but I couldn’t do that to him.  I couldn’t give him what he wanted, answers to who he truly was, or why him, which was his real questions.

I don’t think he realized it when he spoke to me earlier, that I could see what he was trying to do.  Yes, he blamed me for a lot of things, and I saw his point, but I could read the questions underneath it.  He had a complicated upbringing, more than most, and he was confused on his feelings, hoping to get some sort of actual answers.  I know what he wanted and the only way to stop the questions was to tell him the truth.

“Don’t confuse me with your dad.” The problem was, did he know which one really was, and I watched the questions sink back into his mind once again.

Sitting and watching the people just continue as if they had no care in the world seemed to lighten my mood, I always love to watch the way they played.  The way that Bobby played ball with Dean that summer, probably the only time I had checked in on anyone, and it wasn’t on purpose, there was just something pulling me to that…as if something in the universe had shifted once again.  Maybe it was because they knew, John and Bobby, maybe it was because they finally figured it out, but there was something new moving.

I looked up at Dean now, the man who stood in front of me, who had stopped the apocalypse, who had gone to Hell and come back, Purgatory and returned, even went so far as to dive into Hell again to save Sam, and I smiled, because he was the man he was always destined to become. 

“If my plan doesn't work, then humans will step up.” I just shrugged at him. “You, Sam, others that are the chosen will have to find a way. It's why I saved you years ago. You're the firewall between light and darkness.”

And he really was, not because he was Dean Winchester, but because he was DEAN, his true form.  All the final manipulations had been stripped from him when he released Amara, when the Mark of Cain left his arm.  It was the only way he could accept it, there had to be a little bit of John left in him, a little bit of that Winchester legacy in his blood, but now that the Mark was gone, now that he was free of the burden of it, whether Amara was still alive or not, he was finally just Dean. Not a Winchester, not a Singer, just a hunter with a destiny.

“No. No, I... Look, give me a – a vampire, and I'm good.” He argued, something he was good at, something that wouldn’t ever change. “But this – God's sister? That is way above my pay grade. I... It... Bottom line is i-it's you who has to take her out. And look, then after that, you know, get a condo in Cancun. I don't care!”

I smiled at him. Did he realize that there was no doubt in my mind that this Dean that stood before me, right now, right here was the one man I trusted to save the world?  I don’t honestly think he realized just how important he was, even if the rest of the world didn’t know it.

For a man with such a big secret in his past, he was the one that the world would come to rely on, I just wish I could tell him.


	7. The Justification of Jody Mills

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There was a time when Jody knew Bobby Singer, when she helped him out, when she decided that she was going to be the ear that listened to the rantings of a drunk man. She never realized that what she heard, what he swore her to keep secret, would involve a man who had become family.

The Justification of Jody Mills

Dawn Gray Copyright 2017

I don’t own Jody, the Boys, Mary or Bobby

 

When I first saw Mary Winchester in the flesh, I thought that I was looking into Sam’s eyes.  Yeah, he definitely got his intelligence from her, there was no doubt about it. But as I looked past her, at the shocked and irritated look on Dean’s face, I noticed the one thing that I had been overlooking for year. 

The resemblance.

Don’t get me wrong, Dean looked like his mother, definitely like his younger brother, but there was something different in the way his eyes were, the bright green nature of them.  I had known the boys for years but this was the very first time that I had really stopped to look at Dean and I realized exactly why I couldn’t picture his father.

I was looking at the wrong one.

John Winchester was a handsome man, there was no mistaking that, especially if you used Sam as a judge of genetics but there was something different about Dean, something that set him apart from John Winchester.  Oh, he had his mother’s expressions and definitely her caring but hard eyes, yet there was something more that I couldn’t put my finger on, at least not at that very moment.

When I met the two men that were standing beside me fighting a demon, it had been some years ago and even then I think I knew, I mean really _knew_ what I was actually realizing at that moment.  The funeral was done, the demon gone and I was standing by Mary.  Billie had just left, the reaper that offered to take her back to Heaven, but even as they spoke and I tried to pay attention, my focus was on the two men that leaned against the hood of the Impala.

Sam stood just a few inches taller than Dean, and even Dean himself was a good head higher than me but it was the way he stood that really got to me.  His demeanor was just that of someone familiar, someone I had known a very long time and at that point, I could almost see him standing there beside them, in that old beaten up cap and fishing vest.  Dammit Bobby, you were the closest thing that these two had to a father, at least for a long time and even thinking that little thought brought me back to a time more than a dozen years ago.

Just like so many other times, I stood beside that rusty old Chevelle and waited for Bobby Singer to roll down the window, which apparently wasn’t on the track at that point.  I rolled my eyes, because, well it was Bobby and if anyone could make me do that, it would certainly be him.  Finally, he got fed up and kicked the door open, giving it a shove on the rusty hinges before he stood up as straight as he could and leaned back against it.

“Sheriff,” he mumbled, trying to keep as upright as possible.

“Bobby,” I groaned and just knew that the man had been tapping that bottle once again.  He gave a gruff sigh and looked at my outstretched hand.  His shoulders slumped and he rested the keys in my palm before I clamped my fingers tight and shook my head, tucking them in my pocket. We couldn’t have been more than a mile from the house so I had two choices, which I decided to offer to the man standing before me.  “Walk or take the ride.”

“Ride,” he grimaced and I gestured towards the car.  He stumbled a bit and I shook my head before I made sure the old car was locked, not that anyone in town would even dare to touch it since they all knew who it belonged to, before I made my way to the front seat of the patrol car.  Bobby was there, grumbling about something under his breath and I shook my head as we pulled away.

Once to Singer Salvage, I opened the back door for him and watched as he struggled to get out.  With a sigh, I was able to get one of his arms around my shoulder and I managed to get him into the house without any more issue. 

There was just something interesting about being in there, the way the books were stacked, the empty bottles of whiskey that lined the different shelves, but I had learned the hard way not to ask about the labeled phones in the kitchen.  The last time I did, I received an earful and some really strange voice on the other end when I decided to call out from it.  I was pretty sure the labels were a cover up for the 800 numbers he called a little too often.

Bobby cleared his throat and gestured for me to have a seat, not that I had any intention on staying but he was so used to the lecture I gave that he was probably expecting it.  He had made himself comfortable on the couch, one that was broken and covered with old comforters just to keep it semi-padded.  I grabbed the chair across from him, pushing away a few of the books that had been set there and rested on the edge of the cushion.

“You know what I’m going to tell you, Singer, right?”  I questioned and watched as his lips thinned out and he nodded.

“Yeah, the next time you catch me, you’re gonna lock me up,” he growled.  “I got that the last time you said this was my final warning, Sheriff.”

“So, you were doing so good, what happened?” Okay, so I couldn’t help but be curious, it wasn’t like the man really had someone to be his ears.

“I have a secret that I just can’t let out,” he spoke softly and sat back, “it’s something big, something that could change the fate of the world, and it’s been weighing down on me.”

“Good?” I asked but watched as he gave a shrug, “bad?”

“I’m not sure what it is,” he admitted and sat forward once more, letting out a breath.  “This ain’t no walk in the park for me, Sheriff, life I mean, but this…this could change everything and I can’t say a word.”

“So you find out this big secret and you can’t say anything?”  I smiled, well, this was going to make my night.  “If you need someone to tell, Bobby, you can tell me.”

He hesitated a moment, no, it was longer than that, more like a few minutes, well, long enough for me to start getting edgy as he fought to find the words.

“I have a son,” he blurted out finally, which scared the hell out of me because it had been completely silent in the house for so long.

“A son?”  I shook my head, that was great, so why was he keeping it a secret.

“Yeah, you see the problem is, he already has a father. Not the greatest man in the world but he’s trying to raise those boys right.” Bobby was never really the man to go right to the feelings but I could see that this was something he truly needed to let out.  “I’ve known for a while, hell, since the first moment I set eyes on him that he was mine, but he doesn’t know, he doesn’t need to know it.  I just hope that when he does find out that he doesn’t hate me for it.”

“Bobby, why would he hate you if he didn’t know?”

“Because he calls me uncle,” Bobby whispered.

When I met Dean for the first time, he didn’t strike me as anyone unusual. Okay, aside from the hunting monsters and telling me my son was a zombie, or a witness, or whatever, but that turned out to be something I could handle, however there was nothing extraordinary about the man himself, except that he reminded me of someone I knew.  Not that I could put my finger on it at first glance.

Sam and Dean were trying to pull off being FBI agents but the supervisor’s information that they gave me turned out to be Singer’s number and the world got just a little smaller.

“So, you know Bobby Singer?” Sam questioned me as I looked between the two of them.

“That is,” Dean paused, smiling as if he were trying to pull something off, and that was when I noticed the slight little familiarity in his face, “a fun coincidence.”

But it was my response that got a real reaction which made me question just who I was looking at. “Here’s what I know about Bobby Singer. He’s a menace around here, ass-full of drunken disorderly, and mail fraud. You understanding me?”

Dean’s face changed and I was instantly looking at the man I had been squaring off against for years, the very man we were discussing at the moment, and Bobby’s words sunk into my brain. Looking into Dean’s green eyes, I realized this was the boy who called him “Uncle”.

Now that I see him standing here, I realized the one thing that I never picked up on, the words that Bobby had sworn me to secrecy so many years ago, the boy Bobby so desperately wanted to be his, the one that was destined to save the world, had been right in front of me the whole time.

Coming back to the real world, I let myself sigh, as boys stepped forward, moving towards their mother and I shook my head.  How could I keep this to myself now that it was all falling into place?  How could I not tell Dean that Bobby admitted to being his father, or better yet, why hadn’t Mary told Dean the truth?  Maybe that was what she was running from, and why she held Dean at such a distance. 

Maybe…just maybe the fate of the world still sat on his shoulder, and the secret that I knew needed to be let out had to stay hidden just a little bit longer.


	8. The Proclamation of The King

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley has always walked a thin line between King and family, so what would he do with a secret as big as what Bobby is hiding? What did he find out when Bobby agreed to "lend" him his soul to find Death, and just how far would he go to use that information for his own needs?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Birthday to Dean Winchester!!! Eric Kripke gave us a gift in 2005, he gave us Sam and Dean Winchester and today is all about Dean and some pie. So have a slice and raise a beer (soda if you're not old enough) toast the man who has been to Hell and back for not only his brother but for us. Thank you Eric, Jensen, Jared and most importantly to Dean, for showing us that Family Always Has Your Back!  
> Review if you wish, I'm a big girl, give it to me straight. ;-)

The Proclamation of a King

The Sins of Bobby Singer

Dawn Gray 2017

I don’t own Crowley, Bobby, Sam, Dean, Mary or Supernatural

 

He had me locked in that Devil’s Trap in the dank, dirty basement of his house, not more than a year after I had convinced him to “lend” me his soul to find Death, to save the world, to save the Winchesters.  He didn’t realize, as I stood there looking at my son, that I knew the secret of his. 

Gavin was always a whiny little pompous ass and I hated the boy and Bobby Singer was right, Gavin hated me more.  I was an abusive father, not exactly the best role model, I admit but I never asked to be one.  Yes I sold my soul for a petty thing, but back then it wasn’t the size of your ego that counted and men were measured by more than just their livestock. 

So Moose and Squirrel were in Scotland holding my bones prisoner and this one surly bastard was holding them over my head.  What an unpleasant turn of events.  I stood there, phone in hand, listening to Dean “flick his Bic” over the line and finally I looked up at Bobby.

“Your bones for my soul. Going once…” Bobby’s voice was just as grating as that noise of the metal clanking against itself on the other end of the line.   I rolled my eyes, listening to it. “Going twice.”

I took a deep breath, exasperated that I had gotten myself into this kind of situation.  Hello, King of Hell, this wasn’t my first rodeo, yet this one wily mortal had managed to accomplish what no one else in the history of well…me, had ever done. 

“Bollocks.” I exclaimed and raised my palm to re reveal the contract on Bobby's arms. I then turned my hand over and in a wiping motion to erase the contract. It was an easy feat to master, after all it had been two hundred years and King of the Crossroads or King of Hell, it didn’t matter, I did my job well.

“You can go ahead and leave in the part about my legs,” he gruffed and I rolled my eyes, letting that part of the contract stay as the rest disappeared. I watched as Bobby flexed his arms. “Pleasure doing business with you.”

It was harmlessly done, no real skin off my back but I wondered what he would do if I let the little cat out of the bag.

“Now if you don't mind,” I straightened and looked at the trap above my head.

Singer reached up with a broom and scratched the paint, releasing me from my bond, but I found myself quite curious, since he had brought my son into this, just what he would think of the knowledge I held in my hands.  I stood for a moment and watched his face, knowing that he expected me to pop out and retrieve my belonging before Dean had a chance to burn them.  The curiousness of why I hadn’t beggared off faster crossed his expression and I grinned.

“Why ain’t you leaving?”  Bobby’s words were full of shock and this made me take a step forward.

“Call me curious, but why haven’t you told him?”  I questioned, putting my hands behind my back as I casually looked about the basement.

“Excuse me?”  The older man, well, older looking. I happened to look dashing for my age.  It was hard to keep such a girlish figure when you were hitting the age I was soon. Thankfully I didn’t look a day over one-hundred.

“You’re secret,” I announced as I ran a finger along some of the tools on the counters.  “I’m curious as to why you haven’t told Dean the truth about his genetics.”

“What are you going on about?”  He snapped at me, but I could tell by the tone of his voice that he knew exactly what I meant.  “What does Dean have to do with any of this?”

“You sold your soul to me, remember?”  I stopped and faced the man.

“I lent, you stole,” he replied.

“Tomato, toematoe,” I shrugged, “it’s been interesting to able to pick around at your sins, Singer, a lot more interesting than I thought it would be when I made the deal with you.”

“Get to the point Crowley!”  Bobby grumbled as he narrowed his eyes at me.

“You have a son,” I sneered and watched as every expression erased from his face.  “And not just any son, a Winchester!”

“I don’t know what you’re taking about,” but the defensiveness in his voice told me everything I needed to know. 

“Don’t play coy with me, Singer, you know exactly what I’m referring to,” I watched him look around for something to throw at me, or stab me with but I kept myself out of reach.  “It’s amazing what we do to convince ourselves that we are, in one way or another, void of the sin that we create.  You, my dear man, have one hell of a secret.”

“Say what’s on your mind before I fill you so full of buckshot that you’ll be pissing margaritas!”

“Ah, yes, that again.  I believe you said that to me when we first met,” I gave him a quick smile.  “Many years ago, you and our dear departed Mary Winchester had a – a thing and walla, suddenly there was a bouncing baby boy that the angels manipulated into the man we used to know.”

“Used to know?”  Oh, how I loved to scramble the minds of the people I met just because I could.  “What do you mean used to know?”

“When Dean was pulled from Hell, when our limp angel was able to retrieve him from the rack, the little adjustments within his structure fell away, taking with them what made him John Winchester’s son.”  Bobby looked down at that floor, letting the knowledge sink in.  “You didn’t truly realize the extent of you blunder, did you?”

“What blunder?” 

“The old tale of how Mary and John were meant to be, how Heaven and Earth were moved to make sure that the two of them were together.” Ugh, love stories always made me ill, and this one just made me want to gag, or slit my own throat.  “They were destined to have Sam and Dean, who were destined to become Michael and Lucifer’s vessels, blah, blah, blah. But then you, and your libido stepped in and messed up that plan.”

“There’s no way that Dean is truly mine,” Bobby snapped, shaking his head.  “I mean I always thought, but…”

“Oh, there are no buts in this one, Singer,” I laughed, chuckled actually, but I managed to keep my distaste for the whole idea of it to myself.  “Dean Winchester is your son, now more than ever.  You see, on the way out, anything angelic just fell away, it was why he was able to resist Michael’s pressure to become his vessel.”

“Why are you telling me this?”  I stepped up towards the stairway, ready to leave this dirty, God-forsaken hellhole but I stopped and turned to him.

“Because you tried to use my son against me,” I shrugged and raised a brow, “pity that it didn’t work.  I loathed the little bastard.”

“So you said,” he quipped and that got him a small grin.

“Yes, so I said, but you… you love Dean, and Sam, and what a better way to get back at you for this little trip down memory lane than to let you know in on that little secret.” I watched his face grow grim.  “I fully intend to tell him, you do realize that.”

“You can’t,” Bobby stepped forward, “he can’t know, it would break his heart.”

“And there is nothing I would enjoy more than to do that at this very moment,” but I stopped for a moment and watched as the man began to sink into thoughts of his own.  “Tell me something, do you really believe that these two…well, whatever lovely thing you want to call them…”

“Heroes,” Bobby piped up.

“Hmmph,” I hummed though tight lips, “these _heroes_ can really seal Lucifer back in his cage?”

“My boys can do anything, you have to know that about them by now, Crowley.” 

“Your boys,” I nodded and tapped on the banister.

“Are you going to tell him? Dean?”  The worry in his voice made me smile and I narrowed my eyes at him before giving him a half-cocked grin before I blinked out of the room.

I could see Sam and Dean standing over the open grave that contained the last part of my human existence and casually I stepped through the old cemetery stones, black bag in my hand.  The knowledge of the truth of Dean Winchester was fresh in my mind and I found myself at an impasse.  Do I let the cat out of the back and send the eldest Winchester into what could possibly be a spiral that he would never get out of, essentially sealing the fate of not only the world but myself as well, me being the more important figure in this equation, or let it go on until the precise moment that I could use it to my advantage?

“I believe,” I stated as I made up my mind to keep my thoughts to myself, and watched as Sam and Dean turn at the sound of my voice, “those are mine”

I stopped to watch Dean with that lighter and a cruel smile caressed his lips, caressed is a strong word, a bit of a loving word and though I thought of taking back that little bit of descriptiveness, I decided that caressed was very spot on.  To continue, I let out a sigh and a roll of my eyes.

“You know, now that I think about it, maybe I'll just,” Dean smiled fully, “napalm your ass anyhow.”

It was Moose that made the next move, closing the lighter in Dean’s hand and it made me appreciate the taller of the two more as I stepped closer. “Dean, he's a dick, but a deal’s a deal.”

Oh, a man after my own heart was all I could think as I walked past him but there was no way I was going to let it slide. And I stopped to look up at him. “I don't need you fight my battles for me, Moose. Get bent.”

I bent down to collect myself, as odd as that sounded, but I inspected the bones and cautiously placed them into the bag before I stood and turned to them. This would have been my chance, a one in a million shot to let out this one little phrase but as I stared at the two of them, I decided against it. I needed allies, I needed these two, and though I didn’t realize then how much of a burden they would become, I knew I couldn’t win this fight without them, so I pressed on.

Singer would never know how much willpower it took to keep this to myself, to keep this leverage but there was one thing I came to learn over the years as my interactions with the Winchesters became more frequent, you could never underestimate the strength of family.

I snapped the bag shut, glanced from one to the other of them and pushed past them.” Now, if you'll excuse me. I've a little hell to raise.”

When Singer died, I thought nothing of the secret that he kept from his son, not a single solitary thought of it, so I dragged him down to hell where he remained until Sam found a way to rescue him.  That night, the night that Bobby was released, I tried to steal him back, but Naomi thwarted that plan, and Singer headed upstairs, much to my dismay.

Our history, the Angel’s and my own, was rocky but when she stopped me, just on the other side of the vale where the Winchesters were oblivious to our presence, she told me a little more of the secret behind Bobby’s sin and Dean’s devotion.

No matter what, who, or why, there will never be anything, anyone who would come between Dean Winchester and the people that mattered most to him.  Not even me.  And that was one thing that I decided I couldn’t let stand, so on that day, at that very moment, I hatched a plan. 

It was time to become one of the family, and Bobby Singer’s secret be damned.

 


	9. The Revealing of Mary Winchester

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mary never thought she would be back. She was content in heaven with her little boys and now she was faced with two grown men. Her past was coming back to haunt her, but was she strong enough to face the truth, or run away from her own sins.

The Revealing of Mary Winchester

The Sins of Bobby Singer Story

Dawn Gray 2017

I don’t own the rights to Mary, Dean, Bobby, Sam, John or Supernatural

 

"I wanna get out. This job, this life, I hate it. I want a family. I want to be safe. You know the worst thing I can think of, the very worst thing? Is for my children to be raised into this like I was."

 

I said that to him, I said that to the Dean I had met in 1973, the “hunter” Dean that had come into my life just as John was about to propose.  I said that to the man who stood in front of me now, 33 years later, a man who turned out to be my own son, my first born.  I spoke _those_ words to the man whose green eyes stared back at me when I told him that I had to go.

Dean, my _Dean_ , my precious little boy who was four-years-old in my eyes, was now a six-foot tall hunter, one of the best in the world and I had said those words to him. But as I stared up at him, his dirty brown hair, which used to be blond and those knowing green eyes, I realized that I wasn’t looking at John, no that was Sammy, he looked like John, but Dean…Dean was someone entirely different.

Hunting is in my blood, it runs through my family line for as far back as the Campbell lines goes.  It was never a choice for me, never something I ever thought twice of when I was a little girl, but I knew one thing, I never wanted my children to be part of it. 

Children, mysterious little beings that have the ability to grab ahold of your heart and never let go, but they were also something I never thought I would have.  The hunter’s life was never a great place for children to grow up with so I had decided after that fateful night when I lost my father, when John and I ran after the demon came, that if I did have children, they would never know this life, they would never know the real monsters that hid in the shadows.  They would never know the dangers that I was in or that I had lived with all my life.

I had decided, I had made that choice, but that was before…before I found out that I never really had one.

I never knew who the man was that came into my life, he helped John find the Impala, he followed us to the diner and he told me he was a hunter, but there was always something more to him, something I couldn’t quite put my finger on.  Something familiar.

That was back in 1973, the same year that my parents died, the same week that I met Dean, a hunter with no last name, one that was tracking down a yellow-eyed demon and I remembered that night so clearly.

I held John in my arms, cradling his lifeless body as the man who was once my father crouched down beside me.  His eyes began to glow a honey yellow color and he smiled at me, but the tears and the anger filled my eyes as I stared back.

“You killed him,” which was just a repetitive statement, he knew what he had done.

“Oh, not just John, sweetie-pie. Mommy and Daddy too.” But he grinned just like my father, and unzipped his jacket to show me the knife wound that penetrated my father’s stomach.

“No...” was all I could whisper.

“Yup, afraid so. You're little orphan Mary now.” He seemed to get some sort of glee out of the fact that I was now alone, but he didn’t know the fight in me, the Campbell fight that ran through my blood.

What he wanted was simple, in ten years he wanted to come into the house, to enter with permission, there was no reason as to why, no explanation but something in me sent warning bells off.  I chose not to listen, instead I let my heart decide because if I gave him what he wanted, he would give me John back and we could do what I had always wanted, to have a normal life.

 

I sealed the deal with a kiss, and the price I paid was more than just my soul, it was my children and their life as well.  The years rolled by, I never looked back, never thought of the demon again, not for a while.  Not until almost five years later. In May of 78’ in a small town in Oklahoma, I ran into an old friend, someone I had met when my father had been alive.  Bobby Singer. 

A vengeful spirit had taken over a house, and it was just by happy coincidence that he was pulling into the same motel I was.  I couldn’t help the smile that crossed my face as that Chevelle I had last scene him in years before was pulling up towards me.  He was still as handsome as ever, still with a devilish quirky smile and we greeted each other like old friends. 

His wife had died, possessed by a demon, which was a thought that made my insides shake as I swallowed back the urge to tell him about my own run-in years before.  He had become what I was, a hunter, and with his intelligence, he was a very quick study. As luck would have it, apparently we were both on the same case, one that had taken me away from John, whose nights at the garage had become long and tiresome, and that was when we decided to join forces.

We hunted, we fought, and we won and damn did it feel good.  I had been hunting alone for so long that I forgot what it was like to have a partner.  John still knew nothing of it, the hunting world but I…I couldn’t leave it well enough alone, I still longed for it and still sought it out. This time, with Bobby, I had someone to share it with, the thrill, the excitement, the need to know that you were alive and that what you hunted hadn’t killed you.

In a moment of weakness, in one perfect, wonderful, forbidden moment, we shared what should have been something we cherished and held close to our hearts forever, something that no one besides ourselves would ever know about, but life never seemed to go the way we wanted.

I left Bobby that day, left and never turned back, but I thought of him more than I cared to admit, more than I wanted to, especially that day that the doctor told me the news.  I was pregnant.  John was right beside me, holding my hand, smiling but I knew…I knew that this wasn’t just a happy moment, this was going to change our lives forever.

We named him Dean after my mother but he looked so much like my father, that I thought I had been mistaken about Bobby, that my timetable must have been off, that maybe I had hoped too hard for him to be that one happy mistake. I tried to live in bliss knowing that Dean was John’s, that fate had helped me to keep the happy, quiet life that I longed for, but it didn’t last. 

I needed to keep hunting, even after Dean was old enough to be left with someone.  In 80’, I was tracking down a werewolf in Canada. In 81’, I was on my way back from a Wendigo hunt when I ran into another vengeful spirit. In 82’, I fought my way out of a Djinns dream. That same year I became pregnant again, this time with little Sammy and the night that John had died came back to haunt me, even as I held the special little boy in my arms.

The night I died, which I never really truly remembered until I returned, I could feel Dean’s eyes on me as we put Sammy to bed. He kissed his brother and turned those green eyes towards me.  He smiled, as if he knew something was up and laughed before we tucked him in. 

The four-year-old had seen so much already.  John and I fighting because of my absence, because of my need to “get away”, so much so that it almost caused us to split up. It wasn’t just the hunting that was taking me away, it was the hope that I might find Bobby Singer on one of these outings and tell him just what had happened.

I never did find him and on that night, November 2, 1983, the world as I knew it ended. I would never get to watch Dean grow up, to see who he grew into, or what.  Was he a business man, a lawyer, no that would be Sammy, Dean would be a mechanic like his father, like John, or join the military and be a hero.

But when I returned, when I…came back, all I had to do was look at Dean and I knew.

 That night was the end of my family’s safe existence, and my boys would never grow up to be anything but what was in our blood.  They were born to a family line of hunters and my one careless mistake had sealed that deal.

Dean did grow up to be like his father.  He was a mechanic, and he kept that Impala in mint condition, and he was a hero but the world would never know, and as much as I wished that I could tell him the truth, the scariest part of Dean being who he was, was that you never knew which way the scales of the world would tip if Dean Winchester was thrown into that kind of spiral.

It was the reason I couldn’t stay, after we got Sam back from those British sons-of-bitches, after we had cleared out that house. There was too much of Bobby in his face, too much of the love and the hardness, the concern and the need for me to be able to watch him, to look at him.  I had to leave, I had to go back to where I could imagine Dean without seeing Bobby, to where I could pretend that I saw John in his eyes.

I tried to explain to them that I didn’t belong there, didn’t belong with the two men that they had become, I belonged with the babies that I had left, especially the one that didn’t remind me of Bobby.  I did the best I could to tell them.

“My baby Sam.” I looked at the tall man with the long brown hair, and then turned towards the green eyed man, “my little boy Dean.” There was no way that they would understand any of this, especially if I had to explain more to Dean.  “Every moment I spend with you reminds me of every moment I lost with them.” I wanted them to understand but there was nothing but pain in their eyes. “And I thought hunting, working, would clear my head.”

“Mom...w-what are you trying to say?” Sam’s voice made me smile, my Sam didn’t have one yet, he was still a baby.

“I have to go.” I could see the pain in Dean’s eyes. “I'm sorry. I'm so...so sorry. I just need a little time.”

I had left my two perfect little boys in Heaven, and I had come back to a son who looked like the man I was in love with, and a man that resembled the one I was forbidden to love.

 

 


	10. The Whispers of John Winchester

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maybe I had known all along, maybe I had decided not to notice, at least not until that very moment. He was my soldier, Sam's protector, the sanity that kept me coming back to them, that kept me from joining her and there wasn't anything I wouldn't do for him, not now, not ever.

The Whispers of John Winchester

The Sins of Bobby Singer Story

SPNFanFic 2017 Dawn Gray

I don’t own the rights to John, Mary, the Boys, Bobby, I just write what they tell me to.

 

They say you see your life flash before your eyes when you’re about to die, but I was very much alive, at least at that moment.  It was what I was about to do that was sending me careening down that spiral into the past, but it wasn't my past, really. Or at least it wasn't my faults that was seeing, it was my truths and realizations. Something that really should have angered me but it didn't, something that should have changed my mind but I couldn't because no matter what, he was my boy.

Maybe I had known all along, maybe I had decided not to notice, at least not until that very moment.  He was my soldier, Sam's protector, the sanity that kept me coming back to them, that kept me from joining her and there wasn't anything I wouldn't do for him, not now, not ever.  Sam and Dean would always come first, even now, even as I was about to give up my life, but I wish I had time to tell Dean, to make him understand what I suddenly had. Blood doesn't make you family, love does.

I remembered the first time I held him in my arms, the look in his eyes as he stretched his small body, but the light that shined in them was almost angelic. He looked older than he was already, and he had just come into the world.  He didn’t cry, didn’t make a fuss, just let me hold him and stared.  I thought they weren’t supposed to see far but this tiny thing was staring into my soul.  I knew from that moment on that no matter what happened, I would move heaven and Earth to protect him.  I didn’t know that I would actually have to fight my way through hell to keep that promise.

He was a whip from the start, off and running before I could blink but always the protector, always the curious one that needed to explore everything and just as blond as his mother.  He got his looks from her, at least the looks I could see. He moved like lightening, or crawled at a snail’s pace, it was his choice, no matter the urgency and that was Dean through and through. Once the mindset was there, he had to have it his way or no way.

When Sam came into the world, I knew that I had been blessed a second time, and I watched as Dean stood by his brother from the moment he came home screaming and wailing.  It was only Dean that could sooth him, only Dean that could quiet him down.  Six months after his was born, that fateful night, I handed Sam to his brother, placed the car of the younger one into the hands of a four-year-old and felt the fire raging behind me.

“Take your brother outside as fast as you can - don't look back. Now, Dean! Go!” I know that little man held on for dear life, not letting go of Sam, never letting go of Sam, and as we watched the fire burn, as the house engulfed in flames and I pulled them both close, I knew that from that day forward, Dean would never be the same.

Dean stopped talking for a while, there wasn’t much that would get him out of that mood, nothing much but Sammy.  Doting on his little brother was everything to that kid, and I tried my hardest to be a father to them, but the revenge was just too much, still fresh in my heart, even as they grew.  I watched him change, become a better man that I was, even at the tender age he was.  He was all that Sammy needed, at least that’s what I thought.

That was when I started meeting other hunters, others who wanted to track down the things that went bump in the night.  That was when I meet Bobby Singer. He was a drunk from the jump and we never really saw eye to eye on most things, in fact the only things we ever agreed on was Sam and Dean.  I had gotten his name from Ellen Harvelle, and the reason why was mainly because I needed parts for the Impala, but I remember the day that I pulled up through the Singer’s Salvage Yard gates. 

The cars were parked everywhere, haphazardly tossed about the yard, but there was a clear drive up to the bay and a wrecker with the logo printed on the side sitting right in front of the house.  The boys were both in the backseat, and quietly watched as I got out.  Neither making a noise, at least that was the rules, but that was when they decided it would be fun to carve their initials into the car. 

As I approached the house, I thought of what I was going to say. “Hey, I’m John Winchester, I need parts” or  “hey, I’m a hunter, I hear you have rock salt”, neither one of them were good at all.  Not to someone said to be as paranoid as Singer.

They were right, he was one paranoid bastard.  He met me at the door with a loaded, pump-action rifle pointing the damned thing right at my chest, but when I looked up from the barrel to the man before me, I stopped dead.  There was something about his eyes, something familiar.  He looked past me at the car, at the boys that played around in the backseat and then his hard eyes came back on me.

“What do you want?”  His tone was almost… it was as if we had met before, it had an attitude in it that I knew from somewhere.

“My name is John Winchester,” I gestured towards the car, “my boys, Sam and Dean.”

“Ah-huh,” he didn’t seem very interested, but then I watched the barrel move as he held the gun upright.  “Wait, did you say Winchester?”

“Yeah, Ellen said you might have some parts that I could buy off you, need to do some repairs to the old girl.”  Singer looked past me again and nodded.  I watched as he put the rifle down, step past me from the porch and headed towards the car.  I just followed because, what the hell else was I going to do, but Singer stared at the two in the back of the car.  “Boys, come on out.”

Both Sam and Dean crawled out of the car, well Sam kind of feel, but Dean made his way over the door without bothering to open it, landing perfectly on his feet as he helped Sam off the dirt, brushing off his younger brother. I watched the strange look on Bobby’s face as Dean stood straight, held Sam up by the collar of the shirt and gave us both a shit-eating grin.

“Wait, these are Mary’s boys?”  Singer questioned and looked at me, before looking back at the older of the two.  “Mary Campbell?”

“Winchester!” I stated angrily.  Did he not know who I was?  “She was my wife.”

“Yeah,” he nodded, but his lips barely moved as he turned once again and headed away from the house, down the row of cars. “I know!”

The orders I gave to the boys were to stay with the car as I followed the older man into the maze of cars.  Wherever the hell he was taking me, I was sure glad he had left that rifle behind because you could easily had gotten lost back there.  That was it, that was what started the see-saw of a friendship that Bobby and I had.  It wasn’t always good, in fact usually it was pretty bad, but he was insistent when it came to the protection of the boys, not something I could argue with.

I left them there more than anything, I should have never left them alone, but as time went on, and I got to know Singer better, I started to notice the little similarities between him and Dean, the mannerisms, the facial expressions, the eyes.  What exactly was I looking at?  Why did Bobby keep take the childhood pictures of him and his mother down from the shelves? Why was he so pig-headed when it came to Dean getting some proper schooling, or Sam having some real toys? 

Why was I making it such a big issue?

It came to a head when Dean was nabbed for stealing in 1995.  I decided that he was going to stay where he was put so that I could finish the hunt that we were on, but I had to bring Sam to Bobby’s, everyone else was busy.

I pulled up to the house, and again was met on the porch by Bobby, this time the gun was nowhere to be found but I was struck again by the familiar look on his face, one that I had seen when I drove away from Dean in New York.  Sam went in, ran up to the spare room that Bobby had for them and let the two of us standing in the kitchen.

“Beer?”  He asked as he walked past me, not happy with the fact that I had left my son in a home.

“No,” it was the only answer I wanted to give.  “I need to ask you a question.”

“You already asked me to watch your kid while you take off AGAIN, what more do you want from me?”  Bobby snarled and turned towards me.

“I want to know if you slept with my wife?” I blurted out, and watched the shock roll across his face. There was no gentle way to ask, no easing into a question like that but I knew by then that Mary had been hunting before she was pregnant with Dean, I knew she was hunting after she had him but there was something bothering me about the look on the man’s face.  Something like a realization, and we both had it at the same time.  Bobby just swallowed but I…I just grabbed my keys and headed towards the door.  “I’ll be back in a few weeks, I’ve got some things to clean up.”

The road was my savior, at least at that point in time, and I took every mile of it and let it wash away the thoughts that flew through my mind.  Dean wasn’t mine?  Mary and Bobby?  What the hell had just happened?

That was then, that was in the past and I never brought it up again, not even after the argument of me leaving Dean in New York, not even when he threatened to kill me for what I was doing for MY boys. No matter what, no matter how many times I looked at Dean in that mirror, there was one thing that wouldn’t let me go.  Mine or not, that boy was Mary’s son, my Mary’s flesh and blood and he had my heart from day one.

So here I was, lying down the spell, holding the Colt in my hand and everything, every little secret of Dean’s life was flashing through my mind.  I knew who my son was, I had raised him the best I could, but I wasn’t the best father. I survived a war, I married the most loving woman in the world, I raised two sons that, despite my short-comings, were two of the best damn hunters in the world and I knew one thing with absolute certainty… Dean would never be anyone else to me except for my son.

As I sliced my palm, let the blood drip into the bowl, I turned, gun cocked and raised, and looked at the yellow-eyed demon.

“You conjuring me, John? I'm surprised. I took you for a lot of things, but suicidally reckless wasn't one of them.” He just gave me a wicked smile

“I could always shoot you.” Which wasn’t my plan at al.

“You could always miss.” He laughed, “and you've only got one try, don't'cha? Did you really think you could trap me?”

“Oh, I don't want to trap you.” I said as I lowered the gun, “I want to make a deal.”

I walked into the room, not knowing what to do next, and I sent Sammy out, this was the only way that it could happen. I had to tell Dean, I had to let him know.

“What is it?” I watched him sit up in the bed, as healthy as a horse and that made me smile, more than anything.

“You know, when you were a kid, I'd come home from a hunt, and after what I'd seen, I'd be, I'd be wrecked. And you, you'd come up to me and you, you'd put your hand on my shoulder and you'd look me in the eye and you'd... You'd say "It's okay, Dad" Dean, I'm sorry.” I nodded, not even sure what I was spouting off, but I was bringing myself up to par, gathering the courage to say those words to him.

His face was full of confusion, “what?”

“You shouldn't have had to say that to me, I should have been saying that to you. You know, I put, I put too much on your shoulders, I made you grow up too fast. You took care of Sammy, you took care of me. You did that, and you didn't complain, not once. I just want you to know that I am so proud of you.” Just a few words, Winchester, that’s all I would have had to do to let him know the truth, Just a few more words.

“This really you talking?” Skeptic as ever, more like Bobby than he knew.

“I want you to watch out for Sammy, okay?” I smiled at him, and watched that face looking back at me, the face that I loved, that would always be mine and I smiled.  I couldn’t tell him. I couldn’t break his heart twice because what was coming next was going to tear him apart.

“Yeah, dad, you know I will. You're scaring me.” That little Dean voice that I hadn’t heard in such a long time came flying back at me, and I tried to smile, tried to not let him see the pain of holding onto the secret that just wanted to slip out.

The last words I said to him, the last words I spoke to the boy who would always be mine, no matter who his father really was, it wasn’t I love you, because that would give it away.  It was simple and everything I ever wanted to tell him. It was cryptic and gave nothing away, but it was something I hoped he would do, because I wasn’t leaving him alone, I was leaving him with Bobby. With a smile, I leaned over, looking into those bright green eyes and whispered.

 “Don't be scared, Dean.”


	11. The Disclosure of Dean WInchester

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There was always this shadow hanging over his life, a secret that was never shared, a moment that was almost lost, but it was Dean's turn to decide. To make that decision to just let it out, to release what he knew would could-have-maybe-possibly-wouldn't change a damned thing. But it was time, time to let it out, and the only one he needed to tell...was Sam

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's note at the end but blessed be the fans, and family who have made this all come true, and for the love and support for the Sins of Bobby Singer. If you got Jim on your Facebook, Twitter, social media, please send him a thank you because without him, this wouldn't have been possible.
> 
> Enjoy and please, as always, let me know what you think.

**The Disclosure of Dean Winchester**

“The Sins of Bobby Singer” series

Dawn Gray 2017

I don’t own the boys, Mary, Bobby, John or any of the other Supernatural crew.

 

When Sam walked away from me, any time he walked away, there was a reason I didn’t pursue him, a reason that I let him go.  It wasn’t because he was flawed, because we all were.  No, it was because he was perfect, and he was my brother.  Half or whole, it didn’t matter, Sam would always be my first choice, my mission and yeah I knew.  I knew that there was something different about us, something not quite right, but to hell with that, Sam was my family, he always would be.

So the reason I watched the back of his head disappearing into the darkness wasn’t because I didn’t love him, that I didn’t need him, it was because he needed the time.  Time to realize that I knew what he was holding in, knew the secret that he was keeping from me, the very last secret that was tearing him apart. 

He confessed to me once that his deepest regret was how many times he had let me down, but he still didn’t get it, still didn’t get that there was nothing I would put in front of him, nothing, not even this.  It took all I had to stand there and watch him take those steps, to let him have that time to process the fact that I wasn’t furious that he had held it in, wasn’t upset that he hadn’t confided in me.  Did it make me upset that he knew, hell yes, but it was more because he thought he was protecting me, protecting _me_ from something I already knew.

I had known for a while, known that “Dad” wasn’t “OUR” dad, he wasn’t _my_ father, but it didn’t stop me from loving him, it didn’t make me love him any less or try to protect him, or be pissed off and angry that he had chosen to give me life when he bargained with that yellow-eyed bastard to save me.  It didn’t make me wish he was dead, or that he had never whispered to me that I would have to end Sammy if it had come to that just before he died.  Well, maybe at that part, just a little.

I never changed my way of thinking about the man when Mom came back to life and she looked at me like she had seen a ghost. A ghost of the one person she never thought she would see again, my actual father, my biological parent. And dammit, if I didn’t already know who that was! I was just waiting for one of them, to hell with that, all of them, to open their mouths and tell me themselves.

Bobby Singer was the best man I had ever known, just as good as Dad, but so much more protective and he raised us. Yeah we spent most of our time roaming the country with Dad but he was always there for us, for me, and I started to catch on a long time before my rise from hell. I mean, that sealed it, the way Bobby had hugged me, the way he looked at me, like he was looking in a mirror with total disbelief. But I think I had known so many years before.

It wasn’t in his voice, or his eyes, wasn’t even in the way he told me I was an “idjit” or even that time when he had me throwing the ball around. It was the way he looked at me, the way he snickered and shook his head in disapproval, the way he praised or, when it came down to it, handed me my ass, and it was most certainly was in the way that he loved.  How corny does that sound?  But I have no other way to describe it, he loved Sam and I unconditionally, not matter what we did to screw it up. 

I think I pieced it together the year Sam gave me the amulet.  I went to Bobby and told him that I wanted to give it to Dad, told him that there was no way that I could keep it since it was supposed to go to Dad, but the man looked straight at me and told me that things go where they’re supposed to.  People end up with those they are meant to be surrounded by, to grow from, those that are meant to help them succeed. He handed me back that amulet and looked me in the eyes.

“No,” Bobby had said, and curled his fingers around mine as he closed my fingers on the necklace, “this landed just where it was meant to.”

The funny thing about it was, it was Bobby’s.  We were meant to end up at Bobby’s, in his life, no matter what way the cards were dealt. If Mom had said he was my father, I would have ended up there, as it was, she hadn’t ever said a word to anyone, not even Dad, but still Sam and I graced his doorstep with a smile on our faces and when he looked at me, when he saw who he was looking at, that smile on my lips faded and I just knew.

The hurt on his eyes when I told him he wasn’t my father, when Lucifer was breathing down our necks and I could have done something to stop it and he called me son, that nearly killed me, but the only reply I could give him was:  “you’re not my father, and you’re not in my shoes.”  The expression on his face was of hurt and pain, and sadness, because how he wished he could have said something, how I wish he had said something.  I could have used as swift kick right at that moment.  I would have taken it in the gut if he had just come out and said it.

And when he pulled out that gun, and that one bullet and placed it right there on the table, I knew.  I knew that he was just like me, just a man living on the edge of everything trying to hold on.  We were the same, him and I, and in more ways than just that.  I had to ask him what he was doing, what that was, and when he told me, my heart nearly broke.

“I think to myself, maybe today’s the day I flip the lights out,” and he looked up at me, AT ME, and stared, “but I don’t do it, I never do it, and you know why,” and I watched that anger come up on his face, “because I promised YOU I wouldn’t give up!”

Cas broke the tension in the room, even as Sam gave me the stink eye, by popping out in his normal angelic fashion -- but that didn’t distract me from the fact that Bobby had all but confessed.  He wouldn’t give up, not because he wanted to keep going, not that he thought there was a great white light at the end, but because he promised me.  Me, of all people! How did I deserve that loyalty, and then it hit me, because we were family, and I found myself staring back at who I would look like in twenty years, I was looking into my own eyes as the ornery drunk sat there and stared.

Okay, so I guess I couldn’t just let him walk away, Sam I mean. I followed him through the bunker, trying my damnedest to find him.  I knew he had to be there somewhere, it was a brick building where the hell could he have gone. 

When I did spot him, it was in the hallways between our bedrooms and I slipped into the kitchen,  grabbing two beers.  I remembered it then, the reason why he had walked away in the first place.  He had come out of the storage room, the look on his face was as if he had been caught with something he shouldn’t have and I overreacted.  I always overreacted to everything but this time it was so much worse.  I knew he was hiding something, but when I asked him what, he just shook his head.  I pressured him, tore at him, and when he broke down to tell me that he had been reading Ellen’s journal about me, it was the only time I backed off.

Of course Ellen would know, hell who wouldn’t know but when Sam looked at me, looked me right in the eyes, he knew the cat has escaped that bag a long time ago, that what he had been hiding for so long was a wasted secret.  He finally figured it out, that I had known all along.

I grabbed the beers and walked down to him, stood against the opposite wall and slid down to face him on the floor.  I watched him for a while, taking in the pain in my brother’s eyes, not caring if he was half or whole because to me, it didn’t matter, he was my brother, period.

“I’m sorry, Dean,” Sam’s eyes filled with emotions as he leaned his head back against the wall, while the two of us sat in the darkness of the bunker, beers in our hands.  The library was just not the right spot for this, not the right way of telling our truths, no the hallway was meant for this. So we sat there, each with our back against the cold concrete, my legs up, his legs spread across the tile and I shook my head.

“You can’t be sorry, Sammy,” I said with a sigh, “why would anyone be sorry about what we’ve been through.  Most kids would kill for what we had.”  I was staring at my hand as I spoke but I could almost see the expression on Sam’s face.  Kill for what _we_ had?  Yeah, he was questioning that part. 

“Dean, what we had was a screwed up childhood full of monsters and death and destruction.” This made me look at him and I raised an eyebrow as I pulled out the pictures that I carried on me.  One of Mom and me, one of the four of us, but tucked in there was a picture of just me and Bobby. 

“We had two fathers, two devoted, half-crazy men that would do anything for us, Sam, anything, including dying,” I whispered and placed the pictures on the floor between us.  “We had a life, a good one, even if it was twelve kinds of crazy, but we were never alone, never!  We had them and we had each other.” I met his eyes with mine, locking him in a stare.  “I know this secret has been killing you, Sammy, and I just wanted you to know that it’s okay…it’s okay that you kept it, hell I kept it from you, the fact that I knew, but you don’t have to hold it in anymore. 

I sat up more against the wall, putting my arms on my knees as I looked at him, the beer swinging from my fingers. “You see the way I look at it, we had Dad and we had Bobby, and looking back I have to believe we were given them for a reason, the best reasons.  They did things right for once, those douchebags with wings, they gave us two of the greatest men alive.”

Sam smiled, that half-cocked “yeah, you’re right” smile and nodded.  “It still doesn’t change the fact that you were never able to actually call him Dad.”

“Would he have wanted me to?”  I questioned and watched as Sam stared.  “Come on, you know his past, you know what he was like and would it had changed anything if I had actually used the word?  I don’t think so.”

“He was your father, Dean,” but I had to shake my head.

“No, John Winchester was my father, Sam, just like you.  Bobby,” I looked down at my beer and smiled, thinking of the man who probably would have smacked me on the back of the head for even thinking the next thing that came out of my mouth.  “Bobby was an angel.”

 

**The Accepting of Dawn Gray**

An Author’s note to Fans.

When I started The Sins of Bobby Singer, it was on a prompt from Jim and a best out of three virtual Rock/Paper/Scissors challenge, but deep in me, I knew it needed to be written the whole time.  How else would you explain how the characters decided to come out with their own confessions. 

Bobby’s dying wish.

Sam’s constant pain of a secret that was unshared.

Castiel’s secret mission.

Ellen’s one last entry.

Missouri’s psychic knowledge.

Chuck’s godly revelation.

Jody’s constant inner battle.

Crowley’s deal with his own darkness.

Mary’s love for two men and a son she could never tell.

John’s whispers…the hardest one to put down.

And finally, Dean’s acknowledgement, the one chapter that I really thought I would never write seals this story up and when I think of that, tears begin to fall.  Dean was never supposed to KNOW, he was never supposed to admit to anything, it was my plan all along.  But even the most well thought out plans find their loopholes.

To Jim Beaver, though I’m not sure that you will ever read this, there is so much I want to say.  To Dean, Bobby was the angel, to me, you will always be mine.  I’ve written plenty before, but let me tell you, those replies on the first two chapters, that nod at Jaxcon, you made a fan, no a family member…well, I don’t even know what to say about it, but thank you for that support, that love, and this is something I will never forget. I want to give this to you, I want to bind it up and hand you a book, and that’s my plan.

To my fans, and again, that’s not the right word, to my family: Man, you guys rock!  Rock/Paper/Scissors Mags!  Deb White, Carol Hansson, thank you for everything as far as reviewing and editing (PS we’re still working on the editing part) and the many, many more fans that I’ve made cry with these emotional stories.  I’m sorry for the tears, but never sorry for the words.  They wanted to be heard, I just wrote what they told me.

Dean was right you know.  Half, whole, it doesn’t matter.  You all, ALL, taught me one thing and it was something a wise man once said.

“Family don’t end with blood!”, and he was so right because look at each other, look at the other reading this, make that connection, find your family because “it doesn’t start there either!”

Jim, you are an angel!

Much Love,

Dawn Gray (aka, the other Winchester or maybe the other Singer)


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